


No One Even Knows

by Kay_Drew



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Modern, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kay_Drew/pseuds/Kay_Drew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For 1,500 years, Merlin has waited for Arthur to return. In that time many things have changed. The world is now a dystopian ruled by a dictator. Can things change? Will Merlin and Arthur’s destiny ever be fulfilled? Co-written with Numb3rsfan.  I want to thank alby_mangroves for cheering me on,  haezofdaust for the art , the_muppet  for Paperlegends,  bluemoondreamer for beta-ing, and Numb3rsfan for helping me write this. The dialogue from the prologue is from the series finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Before the Now

Prologue: Before the Now

Throbbing, numb hand cradled against his chest, Merlin sank the ground until his knees rested in the rubble. The warlock leaned his aching, swimming head against the stones that barricaded him into the cave. Tears trickled down his dusty cheeks and stung the cuts that littered his face. Each breath was painful and filled his mouth with a metallic taste; he’d broken a rib or two and had probably punctured a lung. 

Only two people knew he was there. One expected him to return to Camelot at any time and help fight the battle of Camlann. The other expected him to die within the depths of this cave. The latter was right. He was going to die in here. That realization clenched his stomach with dread. He felt his heart break from despair. Defeated, he hung his concussed head and listened to the ragged, grief filled breaths that came from his lips. Energy waning, the warlock lowered himself to the ground and unconsciousness took him.

Hours later, he heard his name whispered in a vaguely familiar voice. Squinting, the Dragonlord noted that the room was bathed a soft, warm light. Merlin noticed that the crystals in the cave had lit up as he turned his head to look around. He stopped moving when he saw his father standing before him with a worried smile on his face. This must be a dream, thought the warlock. 

“Are you really here?” asked the young Dragonlord. His voice was broken and raspy. He hoped Balinor was somehow here and alive so that he didn’t die alone. Merlin didn’t want to be by himself in these final moments. “Are you real?” 

Balinor crept forward and knelt beside the injured warlock. The elder man ran his fingers through Merlin’s matted hair and stroked his son’s forehead with an instinctive parental touch that was meant to both answer his question as well as comfort him. 

More tears sprang into Merlin’s eyes. Never before this moment had he felt more loved. The touch was tender and gentle. It brought an ache of more grief to his stomach. He felt that this world was so cruel for taking his father away from him without even giving him a chance to know Balinor. Even though their time had been limited, the Dragonlord felt much love and adoration for this man. Perhaps in death he’d come to know him. 

“Do not let go, Merlin. Do not give in. You are more than the son of your father. You are the son of the earth, the sea, the sky, the air,” Balinor continued. 

He moved his hands along Merlin’s broken body. Once in a while, his father would pause and concentrate on a spot that was broken and battered. Balinor went slowly as if he didn’t want to miss a single wound – not even a small scrape. 

“Magic is the fabric of this world and you were born of that magic,” he whispered to Merlin in a quite serious tone. “You are magic itself. Believe what your heart knows to be true, that you have always been and always will be.” 

Finished with the task, he moved his hand away. Slowly, he stood and towered over the warlock. Merlin looked up at Balinor with a weary smile upon his face. “Rest,” whispered Balinor. The tone was absolutely parental. “You are weary and your body is healing.”

“Will you be here when I wake,” whispered Merlin as he yawned. Seeing his father nod, Merlin closed his eyes and let sleep take him. 

For hours, the warlock slept without a dream or a care. He only woke when Balinor shook him into reluctant consciousness. Still drowsy, Merlin wiped the sleep from his eyes. 

On his feet, he steadied himself against the wall. He stared at his father through half-mast eyes. The smile that Balinor gave comforted him. It brought him peace and an inner calmness that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

“Your journey has only just begun. You wield a power that you cannot yet conceive of. Destiny awaits. Don’t be afraid. Trust in what you are. Trust in what will be,” the man hummed. His voice was low and loving. It revealed all the care he had for his son. 

“Good bye, father,” Merlin began. The warlock’s voice shook a little. There was a part of him that was still fearful and uncertain of the future. He wished that his father could stay with him longer. Merlin felt like he still needed the man. 

“There are no good-byes, Emrys. For I will always be as you will always be,” Balinor told Merlin. He nodded to the warlock. The nod turned into a jerk of the head. It was as if he encouraged Merlin to go on and to get out of there. 

Taking a deep breath, Merlin stepped forward. He climbed up and through the crystals. A natural staircase had been carved into the stones by water, earth quivers, and erosion. Coming to the end of the cave, the warlock stopped. Now what? The way out was blocked. Sighing in frustration, Merlin glanced around. Then, he saw it – an ancient staff similar to the one he’d taken from the Sidhe years ago. This was a sign, the warlock was sure of it. 

Taking it in his hands, he whispered a spell. His look turned from young man to that of the old wizard Dragoon. The warlock thought it would be the safest way to proceed. Magic, after all, was still banned in Camelot and he didn’t want burned or hung after he helped Camelot and her King win this war. 

With his hand wrapped tightly around the staff, he blew away the stone wall with a surge of magic that shook the ground beneath him. Charging forward, Merlin stood at the cliff. He aimed at the Saxons. Groups of ten or twenty were blown back, defeated with his abilities. The warlock then pointed at another set and another and another until the rest of Camelot’s enemy had been destroyed. As Aithusa came towards Camelot’s Knights, he gestured towards the white beast with the staff. A bolt of electricity came from its top and struck the dragon. With a long, pain-filled screech, she fell and was dead. The war was over; Camelot had won. 

Now, it was time to turn back into his younger self. Under his breath, he whispered a spell. The aged look of Emrys dripped away and soon he was left with a shock of dark hair and smooth youthful skin. Feeling weighed down by the robes, Merlin ripped them off. “How does Gaius stand wearing those?” he wondered aloud as he cast the staff aside; Merlin didn’t need that anymore. 

Racing down the cliff, he looked for the king. “Arthur!” he called. Over and over he shouted the word until the warlock practically lost his voice. Finally, Merlin found the blonde-haired king. He was wounded and unconscious. 

“No,” Merlin sobbed as he knelt beside his friend. Pressing two fingers against Arthur’s neck, the warlock was relieved to find the king alive. Merlin picked Arthur up and struggled into a standing position. Walking as quickly as he could, Merlin headed to the forest. He examined the wound after he sat Arthur upon the ground – it was bad. 

They needed Gaius’s help. However, he didn’t know where his mentor was and Merlin didn’t want to leave Arthur alone and wounded. So, he did the only thing he could – send a telepathic message. Gaius, Gaius, I hope you can hear me, Merlin thought. I need your help. Arthur’s hurt. We’re in the woods off the pass. Come quickly. Please. I don’t think I can heal him.

After the message was sent, he let his thoughts fade into nothingness as he hoped Gaius had heard it. Sure enough, after a half hour, the physician came with his bag of medical supplies. He knelt beside Arthur and examined the wound. 

“How is he?” asked Merlin. His brow was furrowed and he looked exhausted. “Please, Gaius, tell me! I need to know.”

Gaius shook his head. “The wound is grievous. I fear that dark magic is at work. There’s nothing I can do.” The words were grim and filled with bitterness. 

“There has to be!” Merlin gasped. “I’m not going to lose him! He’s my friend.”

“I am sorry. I can’t do anything.” Gaius grew quiet as he thought. ”There is one place where he could be saved. It is Avalon. Take him there, but you must hurry. You have but three days.”

Merlin nodded grimly. They had to move quickly. But first, Merlin had to tell Arthur something, especially since magic would probably be involved with this journey. Wearily, he sat down beside Arthur. 

Arthur moaned as he slowly woke. “What’s the matter? You look troubled,” he whispered, clearly disregarding the wound on his side. 

Merlin moved closer and knelt beside the king. “I’m sorry. I thought….I thought I had defied the prophecy. I thought I got to you in time,” the warlock mused as he held Arthur’s wrist to check Arthur’s pulse. 

“What are you talking about?” Arthur asked after he shook his head. The King looked at him with wide eyes and a look that clearly said that he thought Merlin was crazy. 

Merlin looked away from Arthur. He couldn’t bear to look his friend in the eye while admitting the truth. “I defeated the Saxons…the dragon…and yet, I knew it was Mordred I must stop. I knew it was he would be ultimately slay you,” he rambled 

Arthur chuckled a little as he patted Merlin on the shoulder. “The person who defeated them was the sorcerer,” the King rasped. His voice betrayed the pain he tried to hide. 

Merlin couldn’t help it. He broke down into hysterics. For support, Merlin squeezed Arthur’s wrist tighter. “I am the sorcerer,” the warlock rasped. His breathes were loud and probably scared away all the animals close to them. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin,” Arthur replied with another shake of the head. His voice was stronger and less pain filled. 

“I’m a…” Merlin tried to say. His tears constricted his throat and he couldn’t continue for a moment. To try to regain composure, the warlock sniffed. He pointed to his chest with his thumb. “I’m a sorcerer. I have magic.”

Arthur made a small sound. It made Merlin glance up for a brief moment. The King’s mouth was open. Hurt and confusion shined in his eyes. The look sickened Merlin and the warlock had to look away. 

“And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you,” Merlin concluded. 

“Merlin, you are not a sorcerer. I would know,” Arthur retorted. His pressed his hand against Merlin’s chest as if to put emphasis on his words. 

“Look …OK,” Merlin instructed, after he sniffed yet again. He moved away from Arthur to face the fire. Holding his hand out, the warlock made the flames curl and twist into the shape of a dragon.

Merlin felt like a monster as Arthur pulled away and told him to leave. So, he did. He spent the night wandering and thinking. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go or to be. Finally, when the warlock returned to the campsite, he discovered that while Arthur still did not trust him, he had agreed to let Merlin take him to Avalon (although it seemed Gaius had had to do a lot of convincing while Merlin was away, for Arthur to consent to the trip). 

Day one of the ride had been mostly quiet. The only thing that had really happened was an attack by bandits, which Merlin had taken care of, much to Arthur’s shock and amazement. The King even seemed a little sad about the situation, as if he had wished Merlin was still the magic-less manservant. 

"So you're not an idiot, that was another lie,” Arthur grumbled as they continued on their trek to Avalon. He shifted in his saddle and winced. 

"No, just another part of my charm,” the warlock retorted as he tried to joke with Arthur. However, it fell flat, even to Merlin’s ears. The words made Merlin sound hurtby Arthur’s statement, which he was. The warlock wished Arthur could see that he was the same person as before.

Day two of their east was travel to Avalon started out just as quiet as day one had been. It was unnerving and it felt as if he relived the first day all over again. Not much was said or done as they slowly made their way to Avalon. That all changed though, while Arthur and Merlin stopped for a short time near a brook. 

In silence, Merlin settled Arthur against a boulder. He unstrapped Excalibur from the horse and laid it beside an oak. The warlock did not want them to be completely swordless just in case the horses bolted. While filling the water skins, Merlin had his back to Arthur. A crunch of leaves and the horses’ panicked whinnies filled the air; the warlock stood and darted back to the clearing. Something was wrong. He knew it. 

“Hello, Emrys,” Morgana quipped. Her voice was scathing. It sounded as if she resented him. 

Before Merlin could say anything and before he had any time to turn around, the sorceress had thrust her hand out. With Morgana’s magic the warlock was thrown back and down to the ground. A rib or two crunched as he hit. She glanced his way one time and then headed straight for an uncomfortable looking Arthur, who struggled to get his sword.

Breathless, Merlin lay there watching everything that unfolded before him. He was scared and little disoriented. He wasn’t quite sure what to do. 

“What a joy it is to see you, Arthur,” Morgana greeted in a mocking voice. She loomed over him. “Look at you…not so tall and mighty now.”

Morgana stooped so that she was eye level with her brother. “You may have won the battle, but you’ve lost the war. You’re going to die by Mordred’s hand,” Morgana continued. A large, cruel smile stretched across her face. 

Arthur somehow managed to keep silent. He held his tongue. His jaw tensed and pulsed, though, and he stared with pure, cold hatred at the woman who is his half-sister. 

“Don’t worry, dear brother, I won’t let you die alone,” Morgana practically chirped, unaware that Merlin had risen and had drawn Excalibur from her sheath. “I’ll stay and watch over you until the wolves gorge on your carcass and bathe in your blood.”

“No,” Merlin growled. The sword was firmly clasped in his hands. He was poised ready to strike. “That will not happen. Not here. Not today. Not as long as I have breath in my lungs.”

At that last word, Merlin thrust the sword into the sorceress’s stomach. This made Morgana’s head go back as she gasped a little. It even made Arthur swallow, loudly. The warlock jerked the blade upwards, which made Morgana gasp again.

Merlin noted Morgana’s lips turn down into a frown as she sank to the foliage-covered ground. Merlin pulled the blade out and continued to stare at Morgana, who made a pitiful gasp. “Good bye, Morgana,” Merlin whispered as the high priestess took her last breath. “I’m sorry for what you became. I wish it hadn’t been this way.” 

The warlock raced over to Arthur after he dropped the sword to the ground. Kneeling, Merlin threw Arthur’s arm over his shoulder. “We brought peace at last,” Arthur mumbled. This made the raven-haired warlock stop for a moment and look down at his best friend. 

“Come on,” Merlin said as a response. He dug his heel in and pushed up. Struggling, they headed off for the lake.

They walked in silence. However, after about an hour of travel, Arthur stumbled. “We have to make it to the lake,” Merlin ordered even as the king fell completely to the ground, trapping Merlin under him. 

“You can save me,” Arthur whispered as he was manhandled into a half-sitting position. 

“No, I can’t,” Merlin lamented. His voice shook slightly; the sadness he had been trying to hold back showed through for just a little bit. He pushed it away and deliberately replaced it with quasi-determination. “I’m not going to lose you!”

“Just…just…just hold me,” the King whispered as he patted Merlin’s hand. “Please.”

Merlin felt tears come to his eyes. He pressed his chin against Arthur’s shoulder and dug in a little to keep himself from crying. This was it. This was the end and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. A big part of the warlock broke with that knowledge. 

Arthur’s face scrunched up into thought as he closed his eyes for a moment. “I want to say… something I have never said to you before.”

He stopped speaking. His lips were pressed together as he prepared to speak. “Merlin, thank you,” Arthur declared finally. He reached up and touched the back of Merlin’s head. Gently, he patted the dark locks and smiled. Arthur held the back of Merlin’s head for a moment and then, his blue eyes rolled back in his head as his hand dropped onto his stomach. 

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered while he grasped the side of Arthur’s neck and cheek. “No! Arthur!” The warlock patted Arthur on the cheek in attempts to rouse him, at least a little bit. 

There was no response. The King was dead, but Merlin did not want to believe it. He lowered Arthur to the ground and for a moment, he pressed his forehead against the King’s cold brow. Raising his head a little, he shouted “Arthur!” It was loud and primal. His mouth worked as he tried to say, “Don’t leave me”, but the words would not come out. All he could whisper was, “Arthur”, as he cradled the man’s head in his arms. 

Merlin attempted to lift Arthur from the ground. He had to get him to Avalon. Maybe there was still hope in saving him. It was a fool’s hope full of folly and denial, but hope nonetheless. He grunted as he tried to get to his feet. His body wouldn’t work right. It seemed to fight the grief. He gritted his teeth as he worked. Merlin’s full concentration was set upon getting the King up and carrying him all the way to Avalon. 

But, he couldn’t. He was exhausted and numb from sorrow. The dead body was heavy. In fact, the weight caused him to practically lie upon the ground. “Arthur!” he hoarsely bellowed even though his friend could not hear the word. 

In grief, he wept. Those cries turned into the tongue of a Dragonlord as he called for Kilgharrah one last time. He needed the beast’s help. The words were desperate. Once that was done, he cradled Arthur’s head to his chest for a moment. Then, carefully, he rolled out from under the body and allowed the fallen King to rest upon the ground. Holding Arthur’s head in his hands, Merlin again pressed his temple against Arthur’s brow. He rested it there until he heard the familiar flap of Kilgarrah’s wings (although they sounded slower, as if the dragon was having a hard time of flying). 

“Kilgharrah,” Merlin whispered as the mighty beast landed in from of him, shaking the ground. With unstable legs, the warlock stood. “I would not have summoned you if there was any other choice. I have one last favour to ask.”

The dragon nodded as he looked at the fallen King. Merlin placed Arthur’s body on the back of the dragon and then the warlock climbed on behind him. Holding tight, they flew to the shores of Avalon. Through most of the trip, Merlin looked at the face of Arthur, but every now and then, he would glance out toward where they were going. Once there, Merlin slid off and pulled Arthur’s body with him. Gently, he dragged him towards a small row boat as Kilgharrah flew away. 

Teary-eyed, the warlock put Arthur on the ground and stared at the tower of Avalon through the hazy mist. There was one more thing to do before setting Arthur off on this final journey into the beyond. Unsheathing Excalibur, the warlock examined the sword one more time and then threw the blade into the lake. 

The Lady of the Lake’s hand emerged from under the water, which made the water ripple. She grabbed the hilt as the blade fell towards the lake. Holding it aloft, the Lady sank back beneath the depths of the water, along with the sword. 

After the row boat was prepared, Merlin laid the fallen King into the craft. Straightening Arthur’s hair and his red cape, the warlock then rested a hand upon Arthur’s brow. He wasn’t ready to give up or say goodbye. As he examined the young King one last time, for he did not want to forget this person, a sob escaped his lips. The sobs turned to large tears. His whole body shook with emotion. Holding Arthur’s hand one last time, Merlin sent the boat off with a bit of magic. 

With tear-stained cheeks and sobs still racking his body, he watched the boat sail off. Once the boat was gone, he trudged out of the water, only to face Percival and Leon. 

“The King is dead,” Merlin whispered. Not waiting to hear an answer, Merlin ran and ran and ran. He didn't watch where he went. He didn't care if some bandits might attack (they didn't). He didn't care if he got lost or attacked by some monster (which, of course, he didn’t). 

His mind was numb. Merlin really wasn't thinking of anything as he raced away from Camelot. There was no awareness of exhaustion, thirst, or hunger. He was just slightly aware of the sun setting that first night and then the sun rising the next morning. Out of grief, the warlock fled. Much like adrenaline, it fuelled him and kept him going.

Merlin only slowed when he came to a little village. It was Ealdor. Scrubbing at his eyes, he glanced around. It all looked the same and that fact brought him comfort. 

His saw his mother exited the baker’s cottage with a basket of eggs and loaves of bread. With no inhibition, Merlin rushed over to her. Throwing his arms around her neck, Merlin pressed himself against Hunith in a tight hug. Shaking and sobbing, he whispered, "He's dead. Arthur's gone."

"Shh," Hunith whispered after she recovered from seeing her son so broken and bereft. "Come, Merlin. You're home. I'll take care of you. Your mother's here." The woman let Merlin out of the embrace and then led him inside. 

She put him to bed and, pulling the blanket up until it touched his chin, stroked his hair away from his forehead. As the young man slept, tears quietly poured down his cheeks and his brow furrowed. His mother stayed at his side until he woke. And then Hunith only left Merlin to get him some food, which he quietly ate and then fell back to sleep. 

This went on for several days, but on the fifth day he woke and decided it was time to move on. He filled a tub with hot water and Merlin bathed. Dressed in fresh clothes, he informed his mother that he was leaving. And then, like a puff of breeze on a hot, summer day, he drifted away.


	2. Chapter 1: The Years That Passed

Chapter 1: The Years That Passed

Over 1,500 years passed since Arthur died in Merlin’s arms. In that time, he had changed, even though the King had begged him not to. He’d lost the sparkle in his eyes and his lips had formed into a thin line that never twitched into a frown or smile. He even seemed to have lost his magic; at least Merlin had stopped using it. It didn’t matter to him though. Nothing mattered. Why should it? 

Furthermore, he had let his looks change, although Arthur probably had not expected the warlock to stay the same in that situation. How could he? People grow old. They get wrinkles and grey hair. They often waste away into nothingness and then, they die. However, not Merlin – he just grew older in years and in looks, but never died. 

The world around Merlin had changed a lot, too. Travelling via carriages or horseback was not the usual transportation any more – there were cars, buses, trains, boats, motorcycles (which Merlin actually liked to ride). Music was still performed live, but there were now records, CDS, cassettes, 8-tracks, and digital copies available, thus anyone could listen to music at any time. Not all food had to be cooked from scratch. There was actually a horrendous amount of pre-packaged foods at the grocery store, so preparation time could be as little as 3 minutes (not 3 hours as many meals used to take).Men and women often didn’t even cook for themselves; they went to a restaurant and paid for their meal to be cooked and served to them. People didn’t go to jousts for entertainment, they attended the cinema, watched TV, or went to amusement parks (Merlin thought that most of the rides were scarier than men jabbing each other with gigantic sticks, although he enjoyed riding them). Most things from Merlin’s youth were obsolete, although people still ate with the same utensils used similar cloths to create bedding and clothes. It made him sad, although most things did. A few of the modern amenities the warlock really liked about this world were electric lights and the healthcare. There were so many ways to fix people! 

Nevertheless, things weren’t as they should be. Something was wrong and no one seemed to see it. Well, no one, but Merlin. No one listened to him anyway, so it was as if no one saw it. However, Merlin didn’t really care – not any more, not after Arthur had been gone for so long. However, in the last few years Britain’s gradual evolution seemed to go from bad to worse. The said transformation started with the election of Calvin Styles. 

He’d been charismatic during the elections. Everyone liked him. He’d made some pretty bold statements. When he discussed his strongest platforms, Calvin promised that everyone would have a job, healthcare, good education, and the ability to marry whomever they wanted (as long as they were both humans). He had won by a landslide. 

In his first year in office, Calvin initiated all of his platforms. To celebrate the massive LBGT win, same-sex couples flocked together in a mass wedding. When everyone got a job (and any training needed to fulfil the requirements) the workers went out and bought new homes (newly constructed buildings that the government designed and built), cars, or whatever else they fancied. No one seemed to mind that they had been told what jobs they would have. They had jobs and got paid; that was all that mattered to them. The citizens of Britain cheered when they received an overhauled and updated universal healthcare and everyone was given insurance. 

In his second year of office, Calvin made a few regulations. He banned smoking, which some minded, some loved, and others were indifferent (that was Merlin). When he regulated the sale of alcohol to the pubs as well as how much people could consume at one time, many were a bit irritated. However, it cut down on accidents and domestic abuse, so in the long run people were happy. In that year, he also put in place slightly higher taxes, which irritated all, but the British peopled paid them because it was the law. After all, you have to give a little to get a little. Really, it seemed fair at the time

Late that same year, Britain was bombed by a group of radicals from Syria. Afghanistan, Iraq, and North Korea allied with Kuwait. Thus, the rest of Europe, much of Asia, and all of the Americas went to England’s defense. A third world war was started. 

Because of this war, Prime Minister Calvin Styles initiated all types of rations. Food and drink, electricity, medicine – it was all rationed. Even money was regulated; all the citizens got less. Curfews for all were put in place. Electricity was automatically turned off at 8 PM sharp and wasn’t turned back on until 8 the next morning. The only places that had 24/7 power were the hospitals. 

Everyone expected the war to end within twelve months. But, it didn’t. When the Prime Minister’s third year rolled around, he changed the constitution so the only official in government was the Prime Minster, who could rule as long as needed without an election. He also made it illegal for anyone, but law enforcement or military personnel to own any type of weapon. Fireworks were banned. Life was grim.

Merlin didn’t care. He had become indifferent to the happenings around him. The warlock didn’t feel much of anything any more. Long ago his sadness had disappeared into nothingness. Merlin felt no hope or happiness or even despair. There was nothing to be happy about – he had naught another thing or person to lose. He was numbed by it all. Why worry? There was nothing he could do. Merlin would live through whatever happened, just as he had for the last 1,500 years. Besides, why worry or try to do anything when he had seen everything? There had been so many wars. Britain had practically been destroyed during the first Word War. The country had survived. It would survive again. 

The warlock should have known, though, that something was amiss, besides the war, which ultimately lasted for 10 years and cost ten’s of thousands of lives for all sides and countries. But, the good guys won and the war ended on June 1st, 2008. Merlin should have known their Prime Minister was trouble, especially after the 5th anniversary of winning the Third World War. Calvin Styles was still Prime Minister and all of the rules, regulations, restrictions, and rations were still in place. But, he didn’t know nor did he care.

Truth be told, every time Merlin had seen Calvin Styles on the news, in a magazine, or in the newspaper, Merlin felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. Seeing him made the warlock uneasy. Even just hearing his voice on the radio caused Merlin to feel edgy and like something was wrong with the whole situation. But, he couldn’t figure it out. Why? Perhaps it was his constant state of indifference or perhaps Merlin was just too close to the situation to figure things out. 

As of late, Merlin had had strange dreams. In fact, he was having his first dreams in over a thousand years. They were shadowy and ominous. Often, Arthur was in them; looking as young as he had when he had died. They showed him running and fighting shadow monsters. Then, the dream would morph so that dragons attacked the shadow monsters. But, the beasts would soon turn on Arthur. By then Merlin was there too and the dragons had turned on him as well, even when he told the dragons to leave them be. Finally, the nightmare would morph into a sizzling desert. Arthur and the dragons and the shadow monsters were all gone. It was just Merlin, the immortal warlock and Dragonlord. He would wake when his dream-self collapsed into the scorching sand. 

Tonight, Merlin had just woken from one of these dreams. He lay under a tree in a forest. By his calculations of how much he had travelled lately and how far he had walked, he was near the Crystal Cave. 

In retrospect, Merlin should have known that something was about to happen because of where he was. The warlock had spent his 1,500 years avoiding this place like the plague and yet, in his map-less wanderings he found himself approaching the very spot where Merlin had last seen Arthur (both alive and dead). However, the reason why Merlin was getting close to Avalon, he had not figured that out – at least not yet. 

His hands rested on top of his coat-covered chest, under his scraggly, white beard. A little perspiration had formed on his brow that cool evening and his heart pounded in his chest. The warlock had not gotten used to having these sorts of dreams again. It had only been a week or two since he had started having them. 

Through the boughs of the trees, he looked up at the night sky. With no electric lights anywhere at this time of night, Merlin could see the stars. They were bright and plentiful against the silky blackness of the sky. The warlock watched as the leaves upon the branches shivered in the light autumn breeze. The breeze tickled his beard and caressed the little patches of skin untouched by hair, cooling and dried the sweat that had formed upon his brow. 

Hearing what sounded like someone calling to him, Merlin sat up and listened. His strained his neck in the direction of the calls. With a frown, the man did not hear anything else as the wind died down. Shrugging, Merlin laid back down. With eyes closed tight, the Dragonlord settled himself into his spot against the tree. He was ready to go back to sleep. Yet, as the wind picked back up, he heard the sound again. He listened intently as he sat up again. 

Upon the wind was a woman’s voice. The faint mutterings, Merlin realized, sounded much like his druid name. “Emrys. Emyrs. Emyrs,” the Dragonlord heard. After he stood, Merlin followed the faint calls. He did not know why he did this. He didn’t know what compelled him to go forward. He didn’t even know where he was going. But, he went. Deep down, Merlin felt this was what he was supposed to do. He felt like he needed to do this.

At the mouth of the Crystal Cave, the voice continued to beckon him forward. “Emrys. Emyrs. Emyrs,” the woman called and the warlock had no choice but to follow. He looked around as he entered the cave. It looked much the same as he remembered it, even though Merlin hadn’t been there in over 1000 years. The only difference was the rubble from the cave-in had settled so that there was only a small crevice to squeeze through, which Merlin did because that seemed to be where the voice came from. 

To get through to the other side, Merlin had to suck his gut in and hold his breath. He was practically gasping when he got through the space. Merlin bent over and then arched his back, Merlin sucked in air. He wasn’t used to doing such things. Age must have touched his lungs, at least a little bit. Pollution surely had weakened his lungs a little. He wished there wasn’t so much – ageing or pollution; neither of those things were fun. 

Once he had regained his breath and was not huffing, Merlin glance around the space. It looked the same as the other area of the cave. It glittered and was glorious. The white, silver-like, glow of the crystals was warming as well as comforting. But, oh, the brightness and colours that arched off of the crystals was mindboggling! Coupled with the moon streaming through what was left of the man-sized hole he had made 1500 years ago, it actually hurt his eyes a bit to look upon all these stones; the warlock had to squint at first. This naturally reflected light was brighter than any manmade light Merlin had seen. 

Suddenly, the earth beneath him began to shiver and shake. Little bits of dust and pebbles rained down upon the Dragonlord. As the world trembled with more velocity, larger rocks fell. Then, a whole wall came crashing down. Merlin shielded his head and neck, but it wasn’t enough. A large rock hit the crown of his head, knocking him out cold.


	3. Chapter 2: The Return

Chapter 2: The Return

As the land settled into its original calm and quiet state, the Diamir crept from her hiding place. The faintly glowing woman stepped lightly over to the prone figure that was Merlin. With sad eyes, she examined his aged` face covered by a fuzzy, curly beard the colour of egg shells. A dark red trail of blood trickled down his cheek and stained the said beard. The blood originated from a small circle of injury on the side of his head.

Crouched beside him, the Diamir raised a hand, which she let hover near the wound. She glowed a little bit brighter; this light then engulfed Merlin. Bathed in the pale glow, the wound upon Merlin's head healed as the age dripped away from the unconscious warlock. The beard fell off while his skin puffed and tightened. The dried ends of his hair fell off, so it was short once more. Fine, thin muscles lined his arms and legs. When the light retreated back into the Diamir, the age reversal finished. Now Merlin looked just like he had all those years ago. By all appearances, the Dragonlord was a mere 26 years of age.

The Diamir stood. Looming over Merlin, she looked at him. "Take care...young one. You have much to do in your life, yet," muttered the ancient being. "Your destiny is not complete. He is coming. The King has risen." With those words, the creature crept out of the cave.

Blinking, she looked around. It had been many years since she had left the confines of the cave, thus it was a tad bit too bright for her (even if it was the middle of the night). After the Diamir became adjusted to the light, she sped off. For most, the trip would’ve taken 2 days. But, she could travel at great speed (when she wanted or needed to and tonight the Diamir needed to). She stopped when she reached the shore of the lake.

With arms hung limply at her side, the ancient creature peered at the water as she waited. A passive, but peaceful smile crossed her egg-shaped face while she looked upon the lake. Every now and then, the Diamir would shift or cock her head to one side or another, but that was her only movement.

After an hour, there was a ripple. This spasm was tiny at first, but grew bigger and bigger as a shape emerged from the surface of the water. The blonde-headed man threw his head back as he took his first breaths and coughed.

Weighed down by the armour he had been buried in, Arthur struggled ashore. Once there, he threw off the armour until all that was left was his breeches and tunic, both of which were wet and stuck to him. Arthur wiped his face and then pushed his hair away from his forehead, the risen King noticed the Diamir standing there watching him intently.

"Who the hell are you?" Arthur asked with a raised eyebrow. His voice was husky, a bit coarse, from not talking for all of these years

"What am I might be a better question," replied the ancient creature. Her tone was soft and very calming. It matched her soothing demeanour.

"All right. What the hell are you?" Arthur demanded.

"I am the Diamir. I am a creature of past, present, and future knowledge. I know all," she replied. "But, more importantly I am a friend, Arthur Pendragon. I am here to lead you to Emrys...to Merlin."

"Merlin?" Arthur echoed. He was a bit dazed from being wet. He also felt quite confused about the glowing creature in front of him. This thing nodded her head. "Is he all right?"

"He will be. I had to heal him, but he will be," the Diamir assured. She raised a hand. With one finger, she gestured. "Come. I will take you to him." 

It was clear that Arthur did not trust her; this fact made the Diamir smile. “Do not worry, Arthur Pendragon, if he is unconscious. Rest is how to heal. Merlin will wake," promised the Diamir as she raised a hand. "Here, let me dry you."

"Uh, all right," Arthur stammered. The king felt warm as the ancient creature's light surrounded him. After a moment, he was dry and the glow had retreated back into his helper. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. Now come with me. But, be warned, when you enter the city all is changed. You will know...nothing," cautioned the Diamir as she took his hand.

"Okay," the King replied. Before any other word could be spoken, they travelled with heightened speed and soon, they were near a cave. 

“Merlin is there,” she whispered. 

Arthur stood there for a while as he watched the Diamir head into forest. When he couldn't see her glow at all, the blonde-haired man entered the cave. In the distance, he saw a pinpoint of light. But, in this chamber of the cave could see very little. Hopefully, the warlock was close by (maybe in the adjoining chamber where a light glowed). "Merlin! Merlin, where are you? Answer me," called the King as loudly as he could without disrupting the stones surrounding him. Arthur did not want to be in the middle of a cave in. He'd died once, after all, that was enough for many, many years.

There was no answer. That worried him. Merlin surely would recognize his voice and answer, wouldn't he? Ah, the Diamir had said Merlin was resting. Maybe he was still dozing off. That would make sense, but Arthur still didn’t like that he hadn’t gotten a reply.

Aimlessly, Arthur wandered through the caves until he reached a glittering cavern. Amongst the crystals was the one and only man he called a true friend. Arthur looked upon the warlock. His eyes teared up at the sight. It felt so good to see Merlin after all this time! 

The unconscious warlock looked the same. His face was still unnaturally pale, which contrasted against his shock of raven-black hair. The young man was as thin as always and his ears were just as prominent. The only change was that he wore a different outfit, but Arthur had not expected that to stay the same. Fabric rotted and clothes needed replaced. The King, however, did miss the neckerchief.

Wandering over to Merlin, he sank down next to the body. Overcome with emotion, Arthur gathered the man up in his arms and hugged him hard. As he embraced his friend, he wept and rocked the body.

With a gasp Merlin woke. He pushed Arthur away. A moment of fear flashed in Merlin's eyes. "Arthur," the warlock whispered after a minute or two. "Is that you?"

Arthur nodded. "Yeah, it's me. It's really me. I'm back. I don't know why, but I'm back," the king agreed.

"I thought I would never see you again. I was told that you would rise again when Albion's need was greatest," Merlin whispered.

"Is it," Arthur asked with a cock of the head. When Merlin merely shrugged, the blond-headed man frowned and really examined Merlin. "You have changed. I asked you not to change."

"Everyone changes," Merlin replied.

"But, you shouldn't have. I didn't want you too," Arthur retorted obstinately. "I liked you how you were."

"Life has been hard, not just for me, but for all. There have been many wars. This is an evolving world. I have watched friends and family die in the last 1,500 years. I have seen England destroyed several times over. Now, I live in a world where everything is rationed...from food to water to jobs...anything thing you can think of," Merlin rambled. “I watched as peace and tranquillity filled the world and left the world…over and over like waves crashing against the sea shore. I can’t help but to have been changed.”

Arthur frowned. It created a deep crease between his vibrant eyes. Like a fish without water, he opened and closed his mouth. “How many years passed? Why do we look the same,” Arthur asked as he raked his fingers through his golden locks. 

“People don’t age after they die. They can’t,” Merlin pointed out. It sounded a bit curt. He didn’t mean for it to come out that way, it just did. There was no other way to respond to such a question. Frankness was the answer.

The blunt answer seemed to suit Arthur. He nodded his head a little bit. “That makes sense,” he mused. “But, that doesn’t explain why you look the same.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to change,” the warlock reminded. He gave Arthur the faintest of smiles. It was a joke and both men knew it. 

“Idiot, you know what I mean,” Arthur replied. “Why don’t you have grey hair? Where are your wrinkles? Come to think of it…why are you even alive?”

“This place changed me,” Merlin informed him as he nodded to the glowing crystals that surrounded them. “I did have wrinkles. My hair was grey. I had a long beard. For some reason, it was important that I looked as a man in his twenties.” He wasn’t shocked by the change. These caves tended to have odd effects on him anyway. With the last question answered, the warlock grew quiet, but Arthur pressed on. It was obvious that he wanted more answers and he was going to get them.

“So, why are you still alive? No one lives for fifteen hundred years. No one,” Arthur demanded. 

“But me,” Merlin corrected Arthur in a soft voice. “I have lived that long. I can’t die. I am immortal. It is my destiny to serve you and to help you unite the five kingdoms of Albion. That was supposed to happen when you returned.”

“So, you’ve been waiting all this time…for me?” Arthur asked. His tone was very quiet. There was awe and adoration in his words as well. When Merlin nodded, Arthur’s mouth gaped open again as his eyes widened. 

“I have,” Merlin confirmed. The warlock didn’t look at Arthur. With his lips pursed into a small line, he stared forlornly at the ground. “I would have continued to wait for you Arthur. My life ended when yours did.” 

“Wow. That is really something, Merlin. What a sad life you’ve had. God, you must have lost so many people. You must have seen so many things…both good and bad,” Arthur whispered. It seemed impossible, but there were a lot of things that were impossible and Merlin managed to do them. “So, now that I am here, what are you supposed to do? I assume there is no Albion. What are we supposed to do? What will happen to you after we have fulfilled this mission?”

"Don’t you mean what are you supposed to do?” Merlin interjected. “I don't know. It all seems so worthless or maybe futile. Yeah, futile. The world is ending and there doesn't seem to be anything to do about it. You are right, there is no Albion. There are countries, many, many countries and they are fighting just to fight and cause terror. Here, in England, our ruler has created restrictions. Food, water, and power are all rationed. Weaponry, called guns, is banned except in military. Power goes down at night and there are strict curfews. If any law is broken, a person gets thrown in jail or worse. It's a mess. The only freedom we have is who we can marry. No one has a choice in their job."

"Then maybe I'm here to stop this man. He seems horrible. No, he seems like the worst person on the face of this Earth. He is oppressive and sounds like a cruel, cruel man. Your leader sounds worse then my father," Arthur commented. "Life is going to get better. You'll see."

Merlin nodded. "Yeah," the warlock agreed. "We should rest. It's been a long day."

"Here?" Arthur asked. He looked around the cave and shivered. This was not the fist place he would have chosen. It was glittery and dank. Arthur was actually unnerved by this place.

Merlin shrugged a little as he laid down. "Yeah, here. What's wrong with here? I don't have a job or a home. It beats sleeping out under a tree like I was," Merlin mused as he curled up on his side.

Arthur was silent. The crease in the king's forehead deepened as he thought about Merlin's situation. Was Merlin joking or was he being serious? The latter seemed to be the case. "So, what will happen to you after this is all said and done?" Arthur repeated as he lay down besides Merlin with his back to the warlock.

"I don't know," Merlin admits. "I will either live or I will die. It's hard to say."

"I don't want you to die, Merlin," Arthur admits. 

"I know. I am glad you're back. I was getting lonely," the warlock told the King. His voice had become thick and slurred from sleepiness.

"I can imagine," agreed Arthur. "You said you had no home... Why didn't you just, you know, use magic and conjure up a place."

"It isn't allowed. I would have been taxed or sent to a labour camp or something if a new place showed up. I don't even know if I have magic any more. I can't feel it in me, like I used to," Merlin replied. His voice was calm, but Merlin also sounded sad.

“You...you don’t have magic? I thought it was a part of you," Arthur exclaimed. He really couldn't believe what he heard. “You said you were born with magic.” 

“I thought it was too,” Merlin replied. His tone was flat; it sounded like he was indifferent to the fact. “I guess I wasn’t…born with it like I thought. It doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it doesn’t. It made you…you. You were always special. Most of the time I couldn’t figure out why that was, but you were special. You were different – in a good way,” Arthur grumbled as he watched Merlin lay there completely and utterly defeated. 

"It does not matter. Not now. I guess I am not the man... the sorcerer I was back then. I can't help it. I really can't. I'm sorry. I wish it was different," Merlin lamented as he breathed out slowly and shook his head. The man's dark locks shifted on the stony ground and became tussled

"Yes, it does matter and I wish it was different. Maybe you are still in there... the old you. You have to be," Arthur replied as he pushed himself up on his elbows. "I need you to be, Merlin! I need you to be the old you. I don't know if I can survive this new and strange world without the clumsy idiot you were. I do not think I can rule without your old self. I have been brought back for a reason. You said it yourself I would come back when Albion's need was greatest. From the little you've told me about this modern England, the need is indeed immense. Things sound horrible, like a nightmare."

Merlin nodded again. "They are, Arthur. Everyone is afraid and confused. No one is happy. Most will not say or do anything about it though. They can't or won't. Maybe they don't know what to do," the immortal man agreed. His voice had lowered into a whisper, as if he were afraid that someone might hear what he had to say. Truth be told, he was afraid. While Merlin had lived a lot of his life in the forests and backwaters that surrounded London, he had also spent a good deal of his years in the city centre; Merlin had seen what could or would happen to acts of treason. 

"So, we have to do something. If we are to get rid of this leader, we will have to fight. I can't do it alone. I'll need you and, damn it, I'll need your magic. You got that?" Arthur declared. He sounded absolutely confident about what needed done.

"I do. I do get it. But, I don't know if I have magic or if I can use it properly. I used to feel it within me. It tingled and was warm. Now, I feel cold and numb," Merlin replied. It was his turn to sound unsure and confused, like Arthur had when they had first reunited just a little while ago. 

"You won't know until you try! Try, Merlin. For me," Arthur begged.

"If my magic works... what then? As I said, people with magic are sent to labour camps," the dark-haired main demanded. 

"So what? So, you have magic. You had it in Camelot and didn't get yourself beheaded," Arthur pointed out. He did not like that new bit of information Things were just as bad as what his father had done to magic users – maybe worse. 

"You used it to help and to protect. You did it all in secret. You can do that again. This time, you'll have me guarding your back."

This brought a smile to Merlin's face. "All right. All right. I’ll try. I’m not promising you anything, but I will try. For you," he replied as he sat up. With legs crossed, lotus style, he turned one of his hands palm upwards. He wore very serious expression upon his face, which made deep lines of concentration etch into his brow, around his lips, and crinkle up the corner of his eyes, Merlin stared at his palm. 

Nothing happened. He waited for a minute. Then, two minutes. And then he waited a third. Still there was naught a hint of magic. The warlock could not feel it underneath his fingertips or pulsing behind his eyes; Merlin felt cold. Defeated, the dark-haired man shook his head. 

“There’s nothing. There’s no magic in me. I can’t feel it, like I used to,” Merlin told Arthur. He didn’t look the man in the eyes as he spoke due to the shame that had settled in his heart. 

“Try again. I know it’s there. I can feel it,” Arthur pushed. “You have to try. I was King, after all. You have to do what I say.”

Truth be told, they needed Merlin’s magic. They really, truly needed it. Without his abilities, Arthur truly doubted they would succeed. The man they were supposed to fight seemed to be a formidable opponent who was cunning and smart. At least, that’s how things sounded. Arthur didn’t really know this new leader – not at all – so he was going with his gut. Merlin and Arthur would have to outwit England’s leader and the blonde-headed man had a suspicion that magic was the only way to do it! 

"All right. All right, I will try... again. I can't promise anything, but I will try," Merlin relented with a heavy sigh. He didn't know if this would work at all. Merlin did not think he would be able to stir up his magic, but the warlock would try because Arthur would not stop until Merlin did something or until there was no doubt that the dark-haired man was indeed magic free?

With a deep breath, he tried again. He thought about what he wanted to conjure up. Merlin imagined the flames sprouting from his palm as smoke curled and unfurled towards the ceiling. As the flames grew to be two or three inches tall, Merlin mentally felt the warmth on his hand. The heat would travel up his arm and neck, only to brush against his cheeks, which would glow with the illumination of the fire.

Clearing his throat, he then whispered the spell. Merlin reached deep within himself in search for his magic. He nudged it upwards. The power tried to come. Merlin worked for five minutes to try to get it to work. Still nothing came, except for a thin sheen of sweat to his face, which started as little beads of moisture at his hairline.

"I can't," Merlin huffed. He sagged where he sat. With slow, deep breaths, Merlin tried to slow his respiration and calm his heart rate. The that air came into his mouth and down his throat burned. It felt like he'd run for miles and miles. "I can't do it. My magic is gone."

"Yes, you can! Merlin! You have to. I know it is in you, I saw that sparkle I know so well. I don't know what it was. It might be magic. Please, just try one more time. If you can't get it to work, I will let it rest. I will drop this whole thing and we will figure something else to do to defeat this leader," Arthur snapped. "What do you say?"

The warlock sighed and then rolled his eyes. "All right. All right. I'll try. Only one more time, though. If it doesn't work, please accept that I'm magic free," Merlin begged. After Arthur nodded, Merlin took another deep breath.

"Forebearnan," he chanted. There was a spark inside of him. The spark spread through his whole body. It went from his head and feet and into his hand. Soon, a little light sprung from his palm. Tendrils of smoke headed to the cave's ceiling. The little fire warmed and illuminated Arthur and Merlin. After a minute, the warlock closed his hand and the two men were plunged back into darkness.

"I knew you could do it! I knew it!" Arthur cried and then let out a deep laugh.

Merlin joined in the laugher. However, the laugh soon turned into sobs with large tears. As Merlin shook, Arthur wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The King had a concerned expression on his face.

"Hey, it's all right. It'll be fine. You did well. You did really well," Arthur whispered as he gave Merlin a little squeeze of the shoulders.

"I know. I just... I haven't done magic in so long. I forgot how it felt to use it. I forgot what it felt like flowing through my veins. I had missed it and I had no idea," Merlin admits as he wiped the tears from his eyes and cheeks. "It was nice."

Arthur smirked. He could not help himself. Deep down, Arthur wanted to brag and say to Merlin that he had told him so. However, he was also relieved to see the warm glow that was so familiar, and soothing, back within Merlin's eyes. The magic also meant they also had a fighting chance to win and get the Calvin out of office. That seemed like a very good thing.

"We better get some sleep. We have a lot of planning to do tomorrow and it's getting late. Besides, you look like rubbish, Merlin. You're pale and sweaty. Does magic really take such a toll on you?" Arthur asked.

"Anyone who uses magic suffers. Something is given to balance off the results. Magic has a price. But, I'll be fine after a little sleep," Merlin replied with a yawn. Then, without another word, he laid down on the cold, stony ground; Arthur followed suit. Merlin fell asleep with his knees drawn up to his chin. Soon, the warlock dreamt. 

The sky was stained red as the sun set below the horizon. Dead bodies littered the streets. Cars were overturned; buildings and homes burned and crumbled into themselves. Gunshots rang through the air. 

Merlin and Arthur, along with a group of people the warlock had never before seen strode through the desolate city. They stopped in front of Calvin, who had his own group of men and women flanking him. He smiled at the group lead by Arthur and Merlin. It was sick and twisted and signalled that he was about ready to do something very, very bad.

"Give up. We've won," Arthur demanded. “You’ve got nothing – no land, few soldiers. It’s futile to keep fighting.” 

"Why would I give up? And who says I have lost? I have men... More men than you, I would say I am the winner," Calvin declared. "Besides, I still have some tricks up my sleeves. I can win. I will."

Calvin reached out. He squeezed his fingers together. Doing so, Arthur began to gasp and grab at his throat. The King turned a little dusky in the cheeks and around the mouth. Arthur was dying.

Merlin reached a hand out towards Calvin. The warlock had to stop the man and save Arthur. Just as Merlin was about to saythe releasing spell, the Prime Minister shouted another enchantment. With his other hand raised, he pointed it at Merlin. Then, the man shoved his hand and sent Merlin flying into a brick wall, knocking him unconscious.

"Merlin. Merlin wake up," someone called, both in the dream and in reality. Merlin woke to Arthur shaking him.

"Are you all right? You were thrashing about and screaming out," Arthur asked. "You scared me half to death."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. It was a bad dream.... A nightmare. That’s all.” Merlin assured Arthur. 

“Do you want to talk about it? It might make you feel better. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Arthur commented. He didn’t seem convinced by the warlock’s nonchalant attitude. 

“Really. It’s nothing, but a dream. I’ve been having them lately. It's fine. I'm fine. Let's go back to sleep," Merlin rambled. He tried to brush the topic off. Why talk about it? That wouldn't do anyone any good.

"All right," Arthur muttered as he lay down. He watched as Merlin also lowered himself to the ground, scrunched himself into a tiny ball, and fell asleep. After five minutes, Arthur was also sleeping the rest of the night away.


	4. Chapter 3: A New Day

Chapter 3: A New Day

Both men slept late into the next day. Merlin was first to stir around noon. Sitting up, he stretched and then stood. The warlock looked around and noticed Arthur still slept soundly. A little smile crossed his face. It hadn’t been a dream; Arthur was back and things were going to be better. They had to be. This must be the time of Albion’s greatest need. 

Grabbing a scrap of paper and chewed-up pen from his backpack, he wrote,  
Follow the path.   
Merlin then headed up the trail he’d used all those years ago to escape after the cave-in. He knew these wood well and so the warlock soon found a brook with enough water in it to bathe (it was just a few feet from the path, so Arthur should have no problem finding him). 

Merlin stripped off his black backpack and then his night-sky coloured coat and laid them under a tree. Stiff and sore from the long sleep he had, the warlock carefully removed his clothes and, grabbing a bar of soap from his satchel, he stepped into the water. 

As the water splashed around his ankles, he winced. It was bone-chilling cold. Taking in a deep breath, he squatted in the water and dove underneath the murky liquid, fought the urge to cry out. When he surfaced, cold droplets of water fell from his nose as rivulets of water streamed down his back and chest. With the bar of soap in hand (one of those tiny, free sample soaps), he scrubbed his whole body. Thoroughly covered in suds, he dove under the water to rinse the soap off. 

Shivering and with prune-like fingertips, he cautiously stepped from the creek. Merlin did not want to slip and fall on the mossy rocks. He dried off with a towel from his bag.

The afternoon sun warmed his cooled skin while he put on fresh underwear and brown pants. He was just slipping his long-sleeved light-blue t-shirt when Arthur stumbled upon the stream.

"Hey how did you sleep?" Merlin asked as he tugged his shirt down over his belly button and stuffed his clothes into his pack.

"Fine. I slept fine. I think I would have continued to sleep if my stomach hadn't woken me up," Arthur replied. "So, how did you sleep?"

"Fine," Merlin echoed. It was the half-truth. After the dream, well the nightmare, he had slept quite soundly. 

"Do you want to talk about...you know...the dream you had last night," Arthur asked. 

Merlin shook his head roughly. "No, I don't. Come on, I'm starved. Let's go get some food," he said as he headed off into the woods. 

"I hope you know where you're going," Arthur called out behind him. 

"I do," assured the warlock while he looked back at Arthur. He gave the man a slight smile, but it fell after a moment. 

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked. He wore a frown much like Merlin's. The man stared at the warlock with confusion glittering in his blue eyes. 

"Your clothes. You're gonna need to get some new things...some new pants and shirts. People do not dress like... well knights any more. We'll get you something to wear and then the food," Merlin explained. 

"Um, all right. How will we pay for it?" Arthur wondered.

"You'll see," promised Merlin as he hurried through the woods with Arthur right behind him. 

Soon they were in the city. Arthur stopped at the curb and looked around at the bright lights, the odd horseless carriages, buildings with garish emblems, and signs of excess (bags bulged with clothes draped over the arms of men and women alike - all of whom who held odd contraptions to their ears). The blonde-headed man's mouth was agape as he took everything in. 

As they passed under a sign which proclaimed ‘Television Repair Shop’, Arthur stopped and looked at the objects in the window. "How did they shrink those people to fit in there? It must be magic," Arthur breathed as he pressed his nose against the glass and stared in awe at the picture. 

Merlin could not help but chuckle a little bit while shaking his head. "No, not magic. It's just technology," the warlock replied as Arthur stepped away and watched the screens with interest. "That's our Prime Minister, Calvin Styles."

"Wait a minute! I know him. You know him. You...we defeated him, Merlin," Arthur mused as he crossed his arms over his chest and furrowed his brow. 

"What are you talking about?" Merlin asked, very confused and slightly worried. 

"You don't know who that is? I'm surprised," the blonde-headed man whispered as he looked over at Merlin. When the warlock shook his head a little bit, Arthur continued, "It's Cornelius Sigan."

Merlin looked sharply over at the television sets. He stared at the prime minister. "It... it can't be," whispered the warlock. But, he knew it was true. It was him. There was no mistaking that man’s face or build. It was indeed their one time foe. 

“That’s why magic is still banned, isn’t it? He knows that it’s the only thing that can defeat him,” Arthur mused. 

Merlin looked over at Arthur and smiled a little bit. “Death seems to have made you sharper,” the warlock said teasingly. 

“Merlin,” Arthur groaned with a shake of his head. “So, what are we going to do?”

“Get you new clothes and then some food,” Merlin told him. 

Arthur sighed. He seemed to be just a little bit exasperated. “You know what I mean,” the King groaned. 

“Yes, I do. We’ll figure it out. But, this is something we shouldn’t really discuss out here in the open. We don’t know who is listening to us,” the warlock pointed out in a grim and quiet voice. 

“You’re right,” Arthur replied with a sigh. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the televisions. Now instead of a news report, there was some programme which discussed a paste to prevent tooth decay. 

“We probably should get going. We’ve being standing here a long time and people are starting to stare,” Merlin remarked as he tugged on Arthur’s arm. The two men headed off down the pavement. 

Soon they stood in front of a clothing store that was lined with windows. Arthur stared dubiously at the place, but followed the warlock into the shoppe. Rows upon rows of strange blue trousers lined the walls and racks of clothes hung everywhere. Shelves of shoes were in all corners of the place. 

“Who do we ask?” asked Arthur. 

“Ask for what,” Merlin replied, clearly confused. 

“To measure me and help me pick out something to wear,” the blond-headed man clarified with a blank look on his face. 

“We do it ourselves. No one measures you or helps you like that. There are people here to take our moment and to answer questions and stuff like that, but people don’t usually get measured,” Merlin replied.

Arthur stared blankly at Merlin. He looked utterly confused, and indeed he was. The blonde-headed man opened and closed his mouth as he tried to formulate a response. “This is one strange and unusual place you have grown up in,” Arthur finally told to the warlock. 

This made Merlin chuckle a little bit. “Others would say the same thing about the world you and I came from," the warlock remarked. "Now, go on. Go pick something out. People are still staring. I know you like the attention, but it's not a good thing, not now. Not at this time."

Arthur shook his head and groaned a little. "All right," he affirmed. Arthur scratched his scalp as he stared at all of the different clothes, shoes, and accessories in the shop. "Where should I start?"

Merlin shrugged. "How should I know? It's your body we're dressing," the raven haired man replied. "Just start."

"Just start. Okay," Arthur repeated as he headed over to odd looking trousers. Most looked the same, which Arthur liked. 

But, to be honest, he was a bit afraid of this 'clothes shopping' thing. There was too much to choose from! Examining the trousers (which a sign overhead called jeans), he chose a pair of black ones as well as a dark-wash. However, he had looked at about twenty pairs before Arthur chose those. Some of them had been huge (large enough for two Arthur-shaped people to fit in them), some had been covered in rips, others were jewelled, and a few reminded him of jester leggings. 

"Not bad," Merlin remarked as he inspected the jeans, which the blonde-headed man had brought over to the warlock to get approval. "You've got a good eye. Now, time to dress your upper half. I doubt you want to walk around shirtless, although I am sure both the guys and the girls would like that."

Arthur looked a little confused by the statement. Why would men like looking at him? He was confused about a lot of things here in this place and in this time, but the resurrected King was not used to feeling so out of his element or muddled in the mind. He decided not to ask Merlin what he meant. Arthur figured he'd get an answer sooner or later. 

Warily and with little steps, he walked the isles of shirts. He found himself drawn to bright colours and patterns - they worked much better on shirts than on pants in his opinion. Arthur really wanted to try on the floral button-down-the-front short-sleeved number, which Merlin had called a 'Hawaiian shirt', but the warlock had baulked, thus Arthur had put it back on the rack as fast as he had picked it up. Spying a burgundy shirt with a black dragon emblem on it, Merlin thrust it at him. 

"You'll look good in that," the warlock explained. "Besides, it's Camelot's colours."

Arthur smiled as he looked at the shirt. He did like that. He also found an ash-grey shirt with funny circular design that Merlin called a peace sign and an olive green shirt that was decorated with a tree. "I think this is enough," Arthur declared as he chose a final shirt that looked a lot like what Merlin wore. "Where do I try this stuff on?"

Merlin pointed towards the area marked 'dressing room' and pushed Arthur in that direction. The warlock stayed close behind him, but did not go into room with him. Instead, the dark-haired man leaned against the wall and waited. 

"So, why's your friend dressed like that?" a store associate asked as he came over to Merlin. 

"Like a knight?" Merlin asked, not quite sure about the question.

"Well, yeah," replied the guy who was named George and wore khaki pants with a red polo (the store's uniform). 

"Oh, um...Arthur's he's an actor...in Spamalot. Just finished a morning performance and...and he got mugged. All his clothes and junk...gone. All he's got left is his costume," Merlin stammered. He hoped George believed him. 

George nodded in a thoughtful manner. "Did you report it?" asked the salesman. 

"Well, no. There’s nothing much to report. The guy didn't have many clothes to begin with. I was about to take him shopping for new stuff anyway."

George laughed a little and he ran a hand through his spiky brown hair. "I gotcha," he said while he looked over at Merlin. "So, you doing anything tonight?"

"What?" Merlin asked. 

"Do you want to go get a drink?" George quipped 

"Thanks for the offer, but I've got other things to do, you know. Besides, the curfew," the warlock replied. 

"Let's screw the curfew. It's stupid! We're not babies," the other man shouted. 

"Really, I've got stuff to do. Arthur and I...." the dark-haired guy began. 

"I see," George mused. "I'm an idiot. I should've realized you two were an item."

Merlin opened his mouth and closed it. "We're not. We're just mates. He was married... to a girl. We're just friends," the warlock replied. 

"And what about you?" the spiky-haired salesman asked.

"I've got baggage. I don't like getting attached. I had a girl once... she died," Merlin admitted in a quiet voice. 

"Well, we've all got baggage. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Clothes straightening waits for me," George lamented and then left Merlin's side. 

As the young man left, the warlock noticed a little tattoo on his bicep in the shape of a spiral. The warlock shook his head and looked around at all the clothes in the store. How were they going to pay for the clothes and food? Merlin had enough to get the outfits, but there would be none left for food. Maybe they could work for a slice or two of pizza? 

"Was he flirting with you?" asked Arthur as he carried out one of the jeans and three of the shirts as well as the clothes he had had been 'buried' in. He wore the dragon-print red shirt and black jeans. 

Merlin nodded. "Yeah, he was," the warlock confirmed. 

"So, that's what you meant by guys liking me shirtless," Arthur remarked. 

"Yeah. Some guys date each other and some girls date other girls. They get married and have families too," Merlin man explained. "Love is love, you know?” He shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn't really matter as long as there is heart and soul. You should understand that because your relationship with Gwen."

"I do. I do," Arthur said as he noticed a black pack that also looked a lot like the one Merlin owned. He picked it up, figuring it would be a good thing to store his clothes. "Shall we pay and go?"

"You need a coat and shoes," Merlin told him. They wandered through the store until they found the jackets. Arthur chose a basic black jacket that zipped up the front and had a grey hoodie insert that allowed for Arthur to cover his head. The blonde-headed man found a watch with a red band and a set of black leather bracelets, which he put on. 

At the shoes, he went straight to a pair of black motorcycle boots. Unsure of what his shoe size was, Arthur tried on twenty pairs of the same pair of boots until he found the right fit. Arthur decided to keep those on and put his brown ones back in the box. Carrying his goodies to the register, the blonde-headed man beamed. He was like a kid at Christmas. 

Merlin paid for the clothes and the two of them left the store. "Do you want to put the stuff in the pack?" the warlock asked. 

"Huh? Oh yeah," Arthur agreed. He bent down. Putting the goods on the ground, he fiddled with the closure and then shoved all the things into the bag. Arthur closed it up, but struggled with doing so. 

He looked around at the strange carriages zooming all around as he stood. Arthur's eyes fell on a small booth where bright, shiny paintings and flat, many-pages scrolls were being sold. He watched as people picked up the items, bought them and left. "Fascinating," Arthur whispered. 

"Huh? What is?" Merlin asked as they crossed the street over to the newsstand and picked up one of the papers. With his last coin, he paid for the newspaper. 

"That so many people are getting the news. Is everyone allowed to buy papers? Everyone can read? It’s not a luxury saved for the rich, the physicians, or the religious scholars?” Arthur continued in a hushed voice. He really seemed to not believe what he saw right here and now. 

“Yes, Arthur everyone is allowed to read. Everyone goes to school and gets an education. People are taught from the time they are very small how to read. You can’t really get around this world without knowing what things say,” Merlin replied. “Now, it doesn’t mean that everyone is literate or wants to read. There are some who don’t know how.”

“Wow,” whispered Arthur. He went from feeling disbelief to amazement in one fell swoop. “This world is amazing. It’s hard to take in all at once. I think I like it though.”

Just as they were about to enter a pizza joint, a military convoy drove past. It was several cars wide and Merlin had to press Arthur against the shoppe to keep him from being run over. “Something is going on,” Merlin muttered as he glanced at the paper. 

Merlin groaned as he closed his eyes and shook his head. He had gone a bit pale and was shaking. “This is bad. This is very bad,” the warlock whispered. 

“What’s going on?” Arthur asked. A frown formed on his face, which wrinkled up his brow. He didn’t like the expression Merlin wore. In past it had always meant trouble brew. 

The warlock didn’t say anything. Instead, he just thrust the newspaper into Arthur’s hand. This little movement caused the papers to rattle and rustle with the Merlin-made breeze. Grasping either side of the piece of flimsy parchment, the blonde-headed man read over the news. 

“RARE EARTHQUAKE ROCKS FOREST,” read one headline. The small blurb discussed how there had been a 2.3 magnitude earthquake in a nearby wood. It also stated that it seemed no one had been hurt (or at least found hurt) and that seismologists (whatever those were) were in the early stages of studying the quake. Nothing definite could be determined until the investigation could be completed. 

Arthur did not think that was what troubled the warlock. So, he figured he should continue reading through the articles on the front page. There was a little blurb about how a local charity had funded a private school, but was being sued by the country, well by the country's government. This was upsetting, definitely, but Arthur did not think it warranted the look that was upon Merlin's face. 

The blonde-headed man turned the paper over. The headline's bold font was so vibrant that it practically burst from the page. "WWIV STARTED. PM CALVIN STYLES DECLARES NO INVOLVEMENT; SENDS TROOPS TO PROTECT BORDERS," Arthur read. He didn't finish the article though. He didn't need to. 

"This is bad," Arthur agreed. He understood that by not helping any allies, England will be seen as a major threat. In essence, Calvin Styles had just isolated the country and also doomed England to ridicule and mistrust. "We have to do something. I don't like war, but I understand the need to protect allies. I am sure Britain has, or had, allies."

"Agreed, it is and yeah, we do have quite a few alliances made all over the world," Merlin muttered as they entered the dive and sat down at a booth. The warlock ignored much of the dimly lit surroundings. The smell of ancient beer and tomato sauce mixed with stale perfume and sweat wafted into his nostrils and it churned his stomach a little - usually, he liked the scent of this place, but today it was made him sick. His feelings probably had something to do with the news he had just read. 

A thin girl who was no more than nineteen or twenty came over to them. She had sweat-soaked curly blonde hair that hung at mid-back and was held back with a bowed headband. Dressed in a little grey dress and apron, the young woman looked every bit the waitress she was. "I'm Lexi... Lex. How can I help you?" she asked, pulling out her pad and paper. 

Merlin (as well as Arthur) was staring at the girl. Those light grey eyes were very compelling. Every time Merlin had been waited on by Lexi, her eyes had reminded the warlock of Leon. Glancing over at Arthur, he could tell that the other man had a bought of déjà vu. "We'd like two slices of sausage pizza and water, please," Merlin replied

"You got cash?" Lex asked. "I can't serve you without it."

"No, I'm sorry," Merlin apologized. "We don't."

"So, what do you want me to do about it? Hmmm... I can't serve non-paying customers," she mused. Lex stepped back and examined the dashing young men. She crossed her arms over her chest as her head cocked to one side.

"We could work for the food. Do you have dishes or floors needing some work," Arthur chimed in. "Please, we're starving. We're new around here."

Lex pursed her lips together as she thought about the situation. "All right, Cowboy. I'll make a deal. You sweep the floors and raven boy can do the dishes and we'll call it even,” she said.

“Great. Name’s Arthur, by the way and that’s Merlin,” Arthur corrected. He didn’t really sound enthusiastic about the deal that the two of them had made, but of course he and Merlin would have to stick to the bargain, lest they wanted to get in trouble. 

“Nice to meet you Cowboy and Raven,” Lex remarked with a bit of a smirk. She had given them nicknames that were going to stick if she had any say in it. The blonde sauntered away with Merlin watching after her. 

“You know, it’s not nice to stare. It’s actually really impolite,” Arthur commented as he also glanced at the woman who wandered off to get their food.

Merlin rolled his eyes at the comment. “Yeah, whatever,” the warlock said. “I wasn’t checking her out or anything. I noticed something…”

“What?” Arthur asked, looking at the breadsticks that were on the table. Intrigued, he picked one up. Sinking his teeth in the fresh bread, he tore off a hunk and began to chew. 

“She had a tattoo peeking out from the hem of her dress. It was a black spiral,” Merlin explained.

“So, she had a tattoo on her thigh? That doesn’t sound special,” Arthur replied after he swallowed the mouthful of bread. “It sounds like a pretty boring thing to adorn a body with.”

“I think that’s the point. It’s simple and unobtrusive. No one would really bother to notice the thing,” Merlin agreed.

“Really, what’s your point? You’ve lost me,” Arthur said as he laid the rest of his breadstick down. It was too chewy for him. He liked soft bread. This reminded him of biting into a sponge, which he had done years and years ago when he’d been a kid. The maid had slathered it with jam and told him it was a special cake. The joke had not gone over well and the woman had promptly been banished. 

“I saw the same tattoo on George at the clothing store. His was on his arm,” Merlin replied in a quiet voice as he leaned forward. “I think it’s a sign of some sort. I don’t know what it could be for, but it seems important.”

Arthur nodded. It made sense. It really did. He did not have time to reply, though. Lex had brought them their pizza slices and water. 

“Here you go. Enjoy,” she told the guys. “Come to the back after you’re done. And don’t you think about leavin’ without pay. We’ve got cameras. If you leave, I will see and honeys I will call the cops. I gotta get paid in this dog-eat-dog world we’re in.” With that, the curly-haired blond was gone. 

Arthur sniffed the pizza. The smell that wafted from the fresh slice made his stomach growl. With steam curling from the hot cheese, sauce, meat, and crust, the blonde-headed man examined the food with interest. Looking around for something to cut it into small pieces, Arthur asked, “How do you eat it?”

“You pick it up,” Merlin instructed as he dabbed the grease from his piece with a napkin. He then did the same thing to Arthur’s slice. “Be careful. It’s hot! It’s really hot.”

“I see,” Arthur acknowledged. "Well, then, here goes nothing."

Arthur sank his teeth into the food. An explosion of flavours erupted in his mouth. It was heaven on earth, but at the same time it was hell. The cheese had burned the roof of his mouth, just as Merlin had warned him. Struggling to swallow his bite, he took up the glass of water, which he proceeded to chug. 

Merlin watched Arthur with bemusement. "I warned you," the warlock jested, taking small bites of the food. He didn’t seem to have any troubles with the meal. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Arthur huffed. Placing the glass on the table, he continued eating his pizza, but with much more caution than before. The young man didn't really want to hurt his mouth again. It wasn't fun. How did they get food so hot in this place, anyway?

The eatery had just opened and the first song of the afternoon began to filter through the air. Merlin stopped eating and closed his eyes and swayed with the music. He seemed to really enjoy the song. Arthur had to admit, the tune sounded pretty, although it was quite different from what he had grown up with. However, most things in this place were different. About three minutes later, the music changed. The song thundered through the room, practically shaking the glasses and plates at the table. It was loud and obnoxious and reminded him of a horde of cantering horses. 

"Man, that singer has quite the range. Where is the person? It sounds like the music's coming from above us, but I didn't notice the place had a second floor," Arthur commented. 

Merlin about choked on his water as he laughed. The warlock could not help it. That was the funniest thing Arthur had said so far. "It's a tape. There's no singer here. A lot of music is recorded so people can listen to it anywhere and at any time," the warlock explained. "People listen to it while exercising, while in a plane, boat, or train, while driving around in their car, and even in their homes."

"What are cars?" Arthur asked as he blinked. He wanted to know everything about this world he was living in. With all this uncertainty, he felt like a young Prince just learning his letters. 

"They're like carriages with an engine. They have horse power, but aren't pulled by horses," Merlin told him. "All those vehicles that about drove you over earlier are types of cars. There are a lot of them out there."

"I see," the blonde-haired man stated. He made a mental note to try and find a book on cars so he'd know what they were and how they worked. 

After they ate the last bites of their pizza and drank the last sip of the water, Arthur and Merlin head to the back. They stopped when they saw a navy sign that read 'Employees Only', in bold, yellow letters. 

Lex stood there with a broom. She thrust it into Arthur's hand. Holding the door open, the curly-haired young woman ushered Merlin through it. Within in an hour both were tired, but they had finished the jobs. 

"You did good jobs. I should hire you two. It's hard to find good help," Lex told the two men. "Thanks for the help, Raven and Cowboy."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Arthur said. 

"The food was wonderful Thank you, Lex," Merlin acknowledged. 

"Aren't you sweet, Raven? See you guys. Remember the curfew. Might want to get in earlier... what with the all the military swarming the place," Lex told them. 

"Thanks for the reminder," Merlin told her, and he meant it. He did not want to get into trouble, especially right now with Arthur’s return, the government’s (and the world’s) instability and their just-forming plan to start a new, well old, regime. It was too risky. They had to be very careful.

A mellow tune by a female musician followed Arthur and Merlin out of the dinky pizza joint. Blinking once or twice to get their eyes adjusted from the fake lighting of the shop to the bright sunlight of nature, Merlin and Arthur let the door slam closed behind them. 

Hearing angry shouts, Arthur glanced in the direction of the yelling. “What’s going on?” he asked. 

“How should I know? We should stay out of it. We’ve got to step lightly,” Merlin cautioned. He didn’t like the sounds either, but the warlock didn’t want to get into the foray that seemed to be taking place. 

“Someone’s in trouble. I won’t just walk away and do anything. You can stay right here, but I am going and that’s final,” Arthur growled. Shifting his backpack, he glared at Merlin before turning on his heel and heading down the pavement.

The warlock stood there while he watched Arthur stomp away through the swarming crowd. He should just let Arthur just go off by himself and take care of things himself. However, Arthur could also get into a lot of trouble or get hurt or get lost and Merlin did not want to deal with that, just as he did not want to deal with the authorities.

Merlin groaned as he made up his mind about what to do. Why did Arthur have to put him in such a tight spot with two dreadful possibilities? Shaking his head, he began to jog along the pavement. Darting and dodging the British citizens, he looked for Arthur. 

Pushing his magic towards his eyes, he used his sonar ability to find the errant King in the swarms of people. Everything went to various shades of sepia tones (some things were lighter and some were darker). The small things, like people or signs, blurred into fuzziness; while the larger items, like cars and buildings, turned into crisp and geometrical in shape. 

With this skill, Merlin could easily pinpoint Arthur. He could even hear Arthur’s laboured breathing, albeit the blonde-headed man was quite a ways ahead of the warlock. As an anger-filled scream ripped through the air, Merlin lost his concentration. Everything went back to normal; people and signs were no longer distorted and the buildings and cars looked like their respected shapes. That was all right, though. He’d gotten the information he needed.


	5. Chapter 4: The Resistance Is Formed

Chapter 4: The Resistance Is Formed

"Quiet! Anything said can, and will, be used against you in the court of law," shouted a very angry sounding police officer, who was still out of Merlin sight.

Figuring he was close to where Arthur (and the police officer) was, Merlin slowed down a little bit. He did not want to seem too intrigued. It might lead to questions.

"What did the girl do?" Merlin heard Arthur asked. Actually, he shouted it. This made the warlock groan and pick up his speed. 

Darting around a bicyclist, he pulled up to the apparent crime scene. A burly, but nondescript police officer pinned a dark-skinned girl to the ground with his knee. He was handcuffing the young woman, who twisted and turned in attempts to buck the guy off. The street girl had dreadlocks and wore a black tank top, yellow plaid skirt, and fishnet hose. She also had the spiral tattoo – this time on her shoulder blade. 

"She was doing magic!" the officer snapped as his reply. 

"Oh really? Where is this... magic you are talking about? I don't see any magic," Arthur countered. 

"The cards," the snappy officer growled as he jerked his head towards the fold out table holding three cards. 

The King turned each card over. There was a 2 of hearts, a 10 of clubs and a queen of diamonds. Each card was bent a little bit bent from overuse. 

"That's not magic," Gemma shouted. "What you do is move the cards around and someone guesses where the bloody queen is! That's all."

"That doesn't sound like magic to me...." Arthur began

“She uses trickery and enchantment with her little game. This is the tenth time this month I’ve caught her. She’s been warned and fined. She keeps doing it even though she knows the price,” policeman groused. 

“Oh, come on, she’s probably just trying to make a bit of money. What’s the harm in that? Let her go,” Arthur demanded. 

"Can’t do it - sorry. The law’s the law," the officer replied, clearly disgruntled with the situation. 

"Why? She didn't do anything wrong!" Arthur asked. 

"Yeah, why? Can't I go with him? He's my boyfriend after all," the plaid-wearing woman proclaimed. 

"Boyfriend," both a shocked Arthur and the officer said in unison. 

"Yeah, boyfriend. Can't I go with him? He's not family, but close enough, right," the dread-locked girl pleaded. 

"I guess," the policeman in a khaki uniform replied dubiously. He unlocked the handcuffs and removed his knee from her back. 

She hopped up and gathered her cards. Stooping, she folded up the table; her silver nose ring glinted in the afternoon light. "Shall we go, Blondie?" asked the girl as she hiked the table up so it rested under her arm. 

"Er, I guess," Arthur said. 

"You should try to sound more enthusiastic, like in bed," purred the dark-skinned girl, which made Arthur blush. 

"I don't want to catch you or your boyfriend anywhere near here ever again, you got it? If I do, it's off to camp for you and him both," the officer warned. 

"What if we need fish? We gotta eat and this is the only way to get to market?" she asked. 

"You know what I mean, Gemma. I don't want to catch you card playing here, got it," demanded the man. 

"I hear you loud and clear. Let's go Blondie," Gemma quipped while she trotted off with her table. 

Merlin and Arthur follow her. "So, you all right?" the warlock asked as he eyed the tattoo on her shoulder. 

"Of course I am," she replied. "Thanks for saving my arse back there. If you hadn't shown up I'd be somewhere far, far away by now doing hard labour for nothing but a bit of gruel!"

“We did nothing. You did it all. Name’s Arthur, by the way, and this is my friend Merlin,” introduced Arthur. “Do you want me to carry the table?”

“The name’s Gemma… Gemma Thompson,” the dreadlocked girl assured them. “I got this…. The table, I mean. Thanks for the offer though.”

“Not a problem,” Arthur replied, with a smile. 

“So, I noticed your tattoo,” Merlin interjected. 

“Oh really,” Gemma asked. “What about it?” 

“I’ve noticed it on several people. What’s it mean?” the warlock wondered, his eyebrows rose ever so slightly.

“It means the government is going down the drain and we’re sick and tired of how things are being run,” replied the young woman with a wary look in her dark eyes. "Wait a minute you aren't part of the government are you?"

"Shouldn't you have asked that earlier?" Arthur asked with a slight smirk on his face and a little sparkle in his eyes. Arthur seemed to like this Gemma; at least that is how it seemed to Merlin. 

"Touché," said Gemma. "So are you?"

"No, we aren't," Arthur assured her. "What if we told you want to do something about the politics around here? What if we told you we wanted to start an uprising?"

"I say, follow me and sign me up," she quipped after she turned a corner and went down an alley. 

"Are we going to trust her," asked Merlin. "We barely know her."

"What other choice do we have? We need people to help us and she seems to want to," Arthur murmured as he followed Gemma down the street; Merlin stuck close to him.

After about an hour of alley travel, the three sweaty people were at the door to an abandoned factory. Gemma sat the table down and opened it up. Inside, there were a couple hundred people (men and women of all ages), including George and Lex. 

"Hey Raven! Howdy, Cowboy," Lex greeted. She was still dressed in her grey waitress uniform. 

"You know them?" Gemma asked.

"I fed them," the curly-haired woman told the punk dressed girl. 

"I see. Oye, Gareth, Pace, Elam, Louis get over here!" she called to the group playing poker.

The men put their cards down. To get through the crowd, they walked single-file. Then, the group stopped before Gemma, Arthur, and Merlin. 

"That's my baby brother, Elam," Gemma introduced as she nodded to the dark-skinned man. 

Elam was the shortest of the group. His head was shaved except for a bit on the top, which he had formed into a yellow-dyed Mohawk. Dressed in ripped jeans and plain orange t-shirt, he looked cool and confident. 

"Then, there's Pace. He’s an ex-cop," Gemma continued while she pointed to the burly guy with a buzz cut. He looked to be wearing his officer's shirt, but had torn off the sleeves, and he donned a pair of plain jeans. 

"I'm Louis," introduced another man. He had a deep voice, pale skin, and slicked back hair. He wore a uniform of sorts - khaki pants and matching shirt. 

"He's the first in command of this little operation,” Gemma explained.

"And I am Gareth, pick pocket and vagabond, but all around good guy," introduced a long haired man dressed in paint-splattered jeans, flannel shirt, and white t-shirt.

"Of course you know me and Lexi," concluded Gemma. "This here is Arthur and Merlin. They are just as sick and tired of this governmental regime as we are."

"What makes them think they can do something different? What makes them think we can win?" Pace asked. 

“Oh, shut up Pace! Can’t you just hear them out before jumping the gun?” Gemma retorted. She leaned towards Arthur and whispered, “Don’t mind him. He just doesn’t want to get his hopes up.” 

Arthur nodded to show he understood. "Magic. I think we can win with magic," Arthur began "This is no ordinary politician. He comes from a time...long...long ago. He was.... resurrected somehow. Using magic, he put his soul in a stone. Occasionally, it gets out. Merlin and I, well we fought him. We got him back into the crystal. Somehow, he has escaped and has been ruling you all with an iron fist," Arthur explained. 

Everyone looked at him like he was crazy. Arthur probably did sound a little off his rocker to the group. However, they seemed to listen and that had to be a good thing. 

"His real name is Cornelius Sigan. He is a warlock. Because of his abilities and because he knows that magic is the only way to defeat him, he has banned the practice," Arthur proclaimed. "This man before you can defeat him." Arthur pushed Merlin to the front of the crowd. 

"He has magic. In my time, many, many years ago, he used magic without the fear of death. My father was Uther Pendragon and during his reign, anyone suspected of sorcery was killed. However, it did not stop Merlin then. The possibility of going to a work camp won’t stop him using it now. With him and with me and with all of you, we will defeat him," Arthur concluded. "Are you with me?"

"You’re nuts. Your idea is nuts. We all could be killed or imprisoned for this little coup. But, I like you and I like your plan. I'm in," Gareth brayed, “as long as you're leading this little mission. of course. It seems like it could get pretty harry."

"Yes, it could. But, sometimes you have to take the risk," Louis agreed. 

"I am willing," Elam replied with a nod. 

"As am I," Pace professed. 

"As am I!" shouted the group. 

"Great! We’ll start tomorrow. Thank you for believing in me. I don't know why you think I can help you, but thank you," Arthur declared. 

The crowd clapped and then dispersed, leaving Arthur and Merlin alone with Gemma. "You’re amazing, you know that? You’ve got this certain air about you. You speak with such conviction. Not everyone we meet is like that," she told him. "Come on, it's time for your tattoos. If you're part of the resistance, you need them."

"Oh goody," Arthur said with a frightened look on his face. 

"Don't worry. It'll only hurt for a minute or two," she promised. "Stay here, Merlin. I'll be back for you in a minute." Gemma led Arthur into a small room. 

She pushed him down into the chair and rolled up his sleeve. "At the elbow crease okay?" Gemma asked, as she loaded the tattoo gun with black ink and a fresh needle.

"That's...fine," Arthur stammered as Gemma straddled his lap. He could feel her warm breath on his skin. Her scent was tantalizing - a mix of vanilla and cinnamon. 

"Do you mind holding onto my waist while we work? I don't want to slip," Gemma mused, as she glanced down at Arthur with soft and caring eyes. Arthur hadn't noticed that before when they had been surrounded by people. 

"No, I don't," the King stammered. He rested a hand against her waist and noticed how wonderfully warm Gemma's skin felt through her shirt. 

The machine buzzed to life and Arthur had to bite his lip to keep from screaming out. This really hurt! "Whoa," he moaned a little bit. 

"Don't think about the pain. It'll pass," Gemma cooed. "You know, I thought there was something special about you when I met you, Arthur. You had this certain air, as I like to call it. You spoke a little differently. You acted a little differently. I got the sense that you were not from this time. I was right. I am glad I was right. Most men in this era are so crude and brash. You're different and I like that."

Gemma turned off the tattoo gun. "We're done. Take a look at it," she instructed. 

Arthur did as he was told. He glanced at the fresh ink on his skin. It was the same as the ones Merlin had pointed out to him - a dark spiral. The only difference was the skin was bright red around it and he bled. Arthur guessed it would stop oozing and his skin would fade after a little bit; at least he hoped it would. 

"It looks great," Arthur commented. "You have a great talent. You have a steady hand."

"That was nothing. You should see my work with a sword," she told him. Gemma got up and led Arthur to the door. Once Arthur exited, Gemma shouted, "Oye, Merlin! Come on! It's time for your tattoo."

Merlin walked over to where Gemma and Arthur were. His legs shook and he was very pale. "All right," he said. "I'm ready."

"Don't worry, Merlin. It'll be fine. It doesn't hurt too much. Just a little bit," Arthur assured the warlock and patted him on the shoulder. 

"You're bleeding! Are you sure this is safe?" Merlin asked. His eyes were wide. He was definitely afraid. 

"Yes, Merlin. I am sure. I am fine. All the people in this place are fine. You will be fine too," Arthur replied while he shoved Merlin into the room and closed the door so Merlin could not sneak out. 

"Come on," she coached, leading him over to the seat. Pressing on his shoulders Gemma got Merlin to sit down. "It will be all right. I am a pro. My hand is steady as can be. Let me get some new ink and change the needle."

The dread-locked girl popped the needle out. She screwed a new one in and then loaded a new canister of ink into it. "Why don't you take your shirt off? I want to put yours on your shoulder," Gemma requested. 

"Um, all right," Merlin squawked. He tugged the blue shirt off and draped it over his knees. 

"Man, are you pale," she remarked. "Don't you go in the sun?"

Merlin shook his head. "Not really. I am not the sunbathing type. I tend to burn," the warlock replied. 

"It's no wonder," Gemma cooed as she started the tattoo on the top if his shoulder. When Merlin gasped, she began to make small talk with him. "So, you have magic?"

Merlin nodded a little. "Yeah, I do. I was born that way," he explained. "I can't help who I am. I have only used my skills for good and not bad. Although, there are some pretty bad things I have done in the name of goodness. I don't like them, but they had to be done," the warlock replied with a sad tone in his voice. 

"Sometimes we do have to act out of our comfort zone and sometimes the right thing isn't the easy thing. Don't beat yourself up over it," Gemma told him. 

"I'm not. I'm not. I've had 1,500 years to come to terms with everything I have had to do. I have gotten over it and I have come to peace with it, even though I am still not fond of it," said Merlin, his voice sounded low and sad. 

"Wait a minute, did you say you are 1,500 years old?” asked Gemma. 

"Yeah, I did. I am. I am older than that, actually. But, only by a couple decades. I don't know why I’m still here. I don't think I will ever find that answer out," the warlock responded. 

"Woa... wow! You are something else. You really are. I didn't know that people could live that long! You are something special," breathed Gemma as she examined the black spiral tattoo. "Okay, you are all set."

"Great," Merlin breathed in a relieved tone. "Thanks for this... thing. I better go find Arthur."

"You better go get some sleep. We've got a busy day tomorrow," the tattoo artist told him while discarding the empty ink canister and needle. "That's what I am going to go do. Sleep. I can't wait for this to be over and done with! You and Arthur have given us all hope. At least, you have given me hope. Thank you."

Merlin smiled. "You're welcome," the warlock told her as he slipped his shirt back on as he left the little room. Finding Arthur staring at a couple of people playing table tennis, he went over to him. "So, want to find a cot and get some sleep? According to Gemma we've got a lot to do tomorrow."

"We do. We do. She's right," agreed Arthur as they went over to the area that seemed to be designated for sleeping. Finding two unused cots that were next to each other, the King and the warlock laid down on them.

As soon as he covered up, Merlin was the first to fall asleep. Soon he was dreaming again. Actually, he was having a nightmare. 

The sky was stained red as the sun set below the horizon. Dead bodies littered the streets. Cars were overturned; buildings and homes burned and crumbled into themselves. Gunshots rang through the air. 

Merlin and Arthur, along with the group of people the warlock had just met (Lex, Gemma, Louis, Pace, George, Elam, and Gareth) strode through the desolate city that was London. They stopped in front of Calvin, who had his own group of men and women flanking him. He smiled at the group. It was sick and twisted and signalled that he was about ready to do something very, very bad.

"Give up. We've won," Arthur demanded just as he had in the previous dream. “You’ve got nothing – no land, few soldiers. It’s futile to keep fighting. 

"Why would I give up? And who says I have lost? I have men... More men than you, I would say I am the winner," Calvin proclaimed. "Besides, I still have some tricks up my sleeves. I can win. I will."

Calvin reached out. He squeezed his fingers together. Doing so, Arthur began to gasp. Arthur started to turn a little dusky. Arthur was dying.

Merlin reached a hand out towards Calvin. The warlock had to stop the man and save Arthur. Just as Merlin was about to say the releasing spell, The Prime Minister shouted another enchantment. With his other hand raised, he pointed it at Merlin. Then, the man shoved his hand, which sent Merlin flying into a brick wall. 

This time, the warlock did not fall unconscious. He staggered to his feet. Holding out his hand, he shot a fireball at Calvin. However, the other warlock held up his own palm. The fireball just bounced off his hand and went straight at Merlin. Before he could react, the flames hit Merlin. With a scream, he hit the ground. 

Screaming, he woke. Merlin was drenched in sweat and he shook. The warlock sat up. He rubbed his eyes and face as he tried to calm down. Oh, how he hated those dreams! They were too real. With everyone's eyes on him, Merlin laid back down. He didn't say anything to the group of people. He didn't want to talk about it. Clamping his eyes shut, the warlock fell asleep yet again.


	6. Chapter 5: The Start of Something

Chapter 5: The Start of Something

Merlin seemed to be the first one up this morning; all of the cots seemed to be filled. He stretched his arms over his head and then, twisting and turning his back to get limbered up, he swung his legs over the cot. The warlock decided to familiarize himself with the complex, seeing as this would be his new home. He wandered through the rows of beds towards the offices, which had been turned into this, that, or the other.

Each door looked the same and there were about ten of them on the first floor and then there were another ten or twenty more doors above him on the second story. Due to the skylights and the grill-like walkway that served as a means to enter the upper rooms, the morning light shined through the skylights and cast eerie shadows on the floor. 

Most of the doors were locked, Merlin noticed. No matter, he found the one place he really wanted - the kitchen. The warlock was starved. Entering, he saw George frying eggs and bacon. The young man gave Merlin a wary smile. 

"It smells great in here," the warlock complimented as he came over to the spiky-haired young man. 

"Thanks. I can't cook much, but bacon and eggs are my speciality," George said. He wore his work clothes as well as an apron. "Are you all right? You were screaming pretty bad last night."

Merlin sighed as he sat down at one of the metal picnic tables. "I'm fine," the warlock assured George with a nonchalant wave of the hand. "It was a dream. That's all."

"It sounded more like a nightmare," the other man replied. 

"Maybe so," he agreed. "But, there's nothing to do about it. I'm fine." Merlin didn't look fine. He was pale and had dark circles under his blue eyes, which were dull and lacked their usual sparkle and mirth. 

"Tell me about the dream, Merlin. You'll feel better," George coaxed as he brought a plate of breakfast over to Merlin and then started rubbing the warlock's shoulders. "You're tight as a drum. That dream must have really gotten to you. You'll feel better if you talk about it. I know I do when I get things out in the open."

"I don't want to, George. Please, don't make me. It's just a dream. It will pass and I will forget all about it," Merlin informed the other man as he enjoyed the back rub, at least until George's hand hit the tattoo. That made Merlin moan and hiss out of pain. 

"Did I hurt you?" the salesman asked as he backed up. Concern was on his face. 

"Yes...and no. Gemma put my tattoo on my shoulder," the warlock explained. "It's nothing. It's just a little tender. The pain's already gone."

"Good," George stated. "I've gotta go. Do you mind watching the food? I'm gonna be late for work."

Merlin shook his head. "I don't mind. I've done a lot of cooking in my day," the warlock said. "Go on. It wouldn't do anyone good if you were late, would it?"

"Nope. I'll see you later, Merlin. Have a good day and... try not to have any more of those dreams," the spiky-haired guy requested. 

"I don't plan on it. See you," the warlock agreed. 

With a wave, George was off and Merlin sat in the room by himself. Merlin was tired and so he sighed. The sigh nearly turned into a yawn, but the warlock stopped it. Rubbing his eyes and remembering his hunger that had brought him into the kitchen in the first place, he looked down at his plate of food and then tucked in. 

The door opened and then swung closed. The low thud of booted footsteps echoed through the room. “That guy, George really seems to like you," Arthur noted, going over to the stove and serving himself some bacon and eggs. 

"Mm.. Yeah, I suppose he does," Merlin agreed as he took a bite of one of the eggs on his plate. "I don't know why."

"Stop being so modest, Merlin. You're special. Any guy or girl would be lucky to have you in their life. How do you feel about it? About him?" Arthur asked as he sat down across from the warlock. 

"I don't know."

"Sure you do," Arthur said as he picked up a piece of bacon and bit into it. 

"Truthfully, I think I like him. I like the attention. I like that... he likes me. It's been a long time since I've felt anything for anyone."

"Then, why don't you tell him?”

“I can’t, Arthur,” Merlin replied. The warlock finished his breakfast, but he didn’t take the plate to the sink. With blue eyes filled with sadness, he looked down at the tabletop. 

“Why not? I don’t understand. Your relationship is legal. You wouldn’t get in trouble,” Arthur asked, cocking his head in attempts to stare the warlock in the eye. It didn’t work; Merlin just jerked his head away. 

“I’m immortal. He’ll die…I won’t. I’ll end up being hurt and alone. I can’t get close to anyone. I can’t take the risk. I won’t.”

Arthur sighed and raked his bangs away from his brow. “Don’t let time stop you. George has 50 or 60 years left in this world – maybe more. Think about all that time you two could spend being happy. Merlin, I know you have lost a lot of people in your years and that you have seen so much. For that, I am so sorry. But, don't give up on happiness even if it is fleeting. Follow your heart," he told his friend. Arthur ate the rest of the eggs and bacon on his plate and stood. Grabbing Merlin's plate, he put it and his plate in the sink.

"It's just something to think about. I'll see you in training,'" Arthur finished. Then, he left the room.

Merlin sat in the now silent kitchen for a few minutes, all the while he thought about what Arthur had said. He rested his hands on the table and laced his fingers together. Could he really act upon the feelings that were brewing within him? Could he allow himself to love even though he knew what the outcome would be? The warlock wasn't sure.

With a heavy sigh, Merlin stood. Leaving the room, he went to the makeshift training ground. It was filled with a hundred or so people. Arthur had paired everyone up and the teams practiced with swords. He leaned against the wall and watched the foray.

Gareth had disrobed and was only in his jeans. Every muscle in his arms, chest, and back rippled as he swung the blade to block Gemma's precise attacks. Sweat had already wet her hair and soaked her black tank top. How long had she been practising?

"They are doing well," Merlin remarked to Arthur when the blonde circled around.

"Indeed, they are. They're about ready to fight," Arthur agreed with a nod.

Merlin also jerked his head in agreement. When Arthur threw a sword at Merlin, the warlock jumped back. It made a mighty clatter. "Hey! Watch it." He exclaimed as he stooped and picked up the sword.

"Stop being such a girl, Merlin. It's all right. No one got hurt," the King said.

Merlin rolled his eyes. Wrapping his hands around the hilt, Merlin positioned himself into a fighter’s stance. Next thing he knew, he was driven back by Arthur's forceful blow. Merlin pushed forward and struck back. Arthur aimed low, but Merlin blocked it. With all his force, he shoved he blade away. This caused a smile to cross Arthur's face, albeit it was a brief one.

"Impressive," Arthur squalled after he stepped aside to allow Pace to mock fight Merlin. Then, he left them to their own devices as he wandered around the large room. Occasionally, he'd correct a person’s grip or stance, but otherwise he seemed content with what he saw. At least, that is how it seemed to Merlin as he watched his friend and fought Pace the same time. 

For the next month, they trained like this. Not everyone was there for practising at the same time. But, that was all right. Each person got many chances and many hours. Everyone got faster and better at battle. Yes, they might actually win this war. They were creating some fine warriors Merlin was happy to see. However, the warlock did wonder if they had done enough? Would they win? They had to.


	7. Chapter 6: Fight One

Chapter 6: Fight One

After a month of training, Louis deemed they were ready for battle. Merlin wasn’t sure if the Resistance (as the group had dubbed themselves) was fit enough to fight. Some of the moves were still sloppy, but most had become fairly adept with ancient weaponry. For the first time in the warlock’s life, he wished that they could own guns. At least Merlin had his magic to help with the fight. 

“At noon today, Calvin and his military are having a rally. That’s when we strike,” George said to the group who had gathered. He looked eager. The young man had become one of their best ‘soldiers’ and he wanted to prove himself worthy. Merlin couldn’t help it, he found that trait very appealing; the dark-haired warlock didn’t say anything though (now was neither the time nor the place). 

“How can you be sure?” Louis asked. Pace, Gareth, and Elam all nod in agreement to Lou’s words. They all knew the attack had to be swift and accurate or the battle would be futile; they would lose. 

“Calvin’s second-in-command was in the shop yesterday. He was mouthing off about it,” the spiky-haired man replied. “Want the security tape to prove it?”

"Enough."

Arthur stepped towards the group from his position in the shadows. He knew Louis and George meant well but sometimes they just rubbed one another the wrong way. If nothing was done it was entirely possible that it could come to blows. That hadn't happened, but at the same time neither Louis nor George had been alone together long enough for a fight to break out.

"We continue with the plan,” Arthur decided while he looked each one of them in the eyes. "It is the only way to prevent mass causalities. Just because you can kill someone doesn't mean you have to."

He more than anyone in the group knew that lives were lost in war, but be that as it may Arthur disliked killing. All it lead to was more and more death, be it self-defence or as an act of revenge for a fallen comrade.

“We have to do something and fast. Calvin’s putting more restrictions on the country every day, on who can use the underground and when, bans on cigarettes, gambling, and alcohol, forced military enlisting,” Gareth pointed out, flicking a strand of hair away from his face. “What’s next, every citizen’s moved into a camp?”

“Gareth is right. We have to do something and fast. I know you want to be prudent, but we’re all going to be living like caged animals until we make a change,” Pace added. “I don’t want to see people suffering anymore.”

As they discussed the plans, Gemma stormed into the room. Dried blood streamed down her face from her nose and coated her teal halter top. “One of Calvin’s men,” she said thickly, “Had a little message for us.” 

Without waiting, she opened the letter in her hand. “Resistance,” Gemma read. “Do not think for a moment that all your attempts to defeat me will work. The city has eyes and ears. You are being watched. Your plan has been made clear to me. You won’t stop me. Your attempts are futile. Surrender or you all will be eradicated one by one. Surrender or watch your precious Resistance be destroyed. Do not think that I am bluffing, I have a member of your group in custody and he will die at sunset unless you and all those under you surrender.” Gemma pressed her lips together as she folded the letter up. 

“Arthur, we have to act… now,” Merlin cautioned. “Not tomorrow, not today…now.” Worry tinted his first words of the assembly. The warlock did not want to see these people in this room killed. 

For a moment Arthur looked uncertain. They had to act, if only to free their captured man. But they couldn't act hastily, that could only lead to disaster.

"Alright, gather round. This is what we will do..." Arthur instructed, his voice rang out clear so everyone in the room could hear him. He held out his right hand, opening and closing his fingers as an indication for everyone to move in closer. 

"Calvin thinks he can control when we strike but he is wrong. He may have pushed up the time table but we are still in control. You all remember your orders?" Arthur asked. He did not give anyone a chance to acknowledge the question. "Good, then gear up. We depart within the hour."

Merlin watched as the men and women departed from the room. When it was just him and the King, the warlock whispered, "We have to be careful. I know this is the right thing to do, but I have a bad feeling about all this. Calvin is going to try to kill us. I've seen it in my dreams. You'll be thrown back and I'll be struck with fire."

There, he had finally admitted what had caused him to sweat and scream as he woke in the middle of the night. No one knew. He hadn't wanted anyone to. It was his cross to bear. He shuddered as the images from the dream filled his head.

"Never mind," Merlin muttered. "It doesn't matter what I saw. We will be fine." The warlock didn't sound convinced as he left the room to prepare.

An hour later, they were at a castle’s ruins. It was a cemetery of sorts - a cemetery of time past; a graveyard of memories. In a way it was a little amusing that Calvin had chosen that particular place to house that day's 'demonstration’. The old, cracked, mossy stone walls, with the pair of the gargoyles at the entrance gate, the overhead balcony that went around the entire ruin, even the spiky wrought iron fences on the top of the walls spoke of home and they also spoke of arrogance.

Arthur slowly peeked around the corner. Everyone was in their positions, armed and ready to fight. In the middle of the space was a raised wooden hangman's platform and on that platform was a single person, hands secured behind his back and a burlap sack over his head, with a noose around his neck.

They had been hiding there for the past five minutes and yet Arthur didn't give the order to move. "I don't like it. This is too easy..." Arthur mumbled. There should be guards everywhere and where was Calvin? It smelled like a trap.

Arthur stood up a little straighter when he saw movement off to the side. He had to fight the urge to call out when he saw Pace and Gareth stealthily run towards the platform. He would have ordered them to wait but even then it was too late. They reached the stage and pulled off the hood. Just then the wrought iron doors of the ruins closed with a loud clang which forced Arthur out into the open.

"You just couldn't resist..."

Arthur squared his shoulders as he looked towards the platform where Calvin stood, a smug grin on his face and a gun in his hand. He shifted the weapon so that at one moment, it was pointed at Gareth and in the next second, it was aimed towards Pace. 

Merlin looked around the space. It was all too familiar. Being here reminded him of his arrival to Camelot all those many years ago. There was even an execution of sorts happening with the man hung in the centre of the space. “Welcome home, Arthur,” Merlin whispered. “We’re in Camelot.” 

It all made sense to him now – why the people he’d recently met (Pace, Gemma, George and so on) seemed so familiar. They had been his friends once upon a time, but as knights, royalty, and servants. Destiny was hell-bent on fulfilling the prophecy; Arthur was supposed to be King while Merlin was destined to help him. 

He scanned the area. His magic reached out. As if through night vision goggles, Merlin saw the men hiding; some were behind pillars, some were on the second floor at the door frame of the balcony, and some were hiding under the stairs of Camelot’s ruins. 

“We need to fan out. They’re hiding right in front of us. Most are to the right or upstairs. Some are under the stairs. We have an opening on the left of the noose,” Merlin whispered to Arthur. 

The King gave no indication that he noticed Merlin, when indeed he had heard everything the warlock said. Arthur didn't want Calvin to see Merlin or even suspect that the raven-haired man was close by, but somehow the sallow Prime Minister seemed to already know.

"You should come out of hiding now Merlin, or else I'll simply kill your King. No, actually I think I will do that anyway..." a suited Calvin snarled. A non-imposing man, he had reddish-brown hair which was slicked away from his face as well as his dark eyes. 

He raised his hand and almost immediately Arthur felt something slam into him with a great force, which lifted him off of his feet. He flew backwards and crashed against the stone wall. Sliding to the ground, he laid still, the breath having been knocked out of him.

Merlin stood from the crouching position he had been in. “Do you really think I am afraid of you? I’m not the man I was all those years ago, Sigan. I am stronger and more powerful. You’re not going to win,” he growled. “Besides, you’re a fool. There are more of us then you. You might know about us… the Resistance, but you don’t know how strong we are and how many have amassed. It ends… now.”

The warlock threw up his hand. His magic grew and pulsed deep within his veins. Without even a word uttered, he aimed his powers at Calvin. Through the buzz of the ball of light and electricity, Merlin heard the people of the Resistance gasp – they hadn’t expected that. With a swift jerk of the wrist, he sent the energy flying right at the Prime Minister’s chest. 

The ball of energy crackled with unimaginable power as it flew straight and true. Its intended target didn't move, he just stood there as he glared at Merlin. At the last possible moment Calvin raised his hand and the ball of light ricocheted off of his palm, flying back towards Merlin with even greater speed and accuracy.

The warlock's eyes opened a little wider and he raised his own hand to try and deflect the ball of energy but he was too slow. It hit him in the chest, knocking him off of his feet and sending him flying into the stone wall.

He slid to the ground with a dull thud, smoke rose from his shirt which sported a large burned hole in it. A scream filled his ears as Merlin felt everything stop (his heart, his lungs, time). Whoever made it, sounded as if his heart was breaking into a million pieces. 

Calvin laughed when Merlin failed to get up or even move. "Maybe he wasn't as strong as he wanted everyone to believe," he mused to himself. Dark eyes glanced towards the shadows he instructed, "Kill the others."

Arthur was well beyond mad. His blue eyes roved over Merlin's unmoving form. He couldn't be dead. Yet, he didn’t stir at all and his eyes were closed. Gritting his teeth, Arthur grabbed his small dagger and climbed to his feet. "Big mistake!" he declared as he threw a dagger at Calvin. 

Calvin let the dagger hit him. The blade wouldn’t kill him anyway. With a smug grin, he pulled it out. As his own soldiers stepped forward and started to fight the Resistance, he let himself disappear into the crowd. 

As the melee intensified, Louis raced towards Merlin’s smouldering body. Passing Arthur, he grabbed a concealed gun and he pressed it into the man’s hand. “Just aim and pull the trigger,” he instructed. 

“Where did you get that?” Arthur asked. He was in shock. Merlin was down. There was a fight going on around him. It was too much.

“Does it really matter? It was government assigned,” Louis explained, “Pace has one, too. We just didn’t return them.”

Louis knelt beside Merlin. “His heart’s stopped. Someone, call 999,” he exclaimed, hoping that someone had a mobile. Louis started the life-saving procedure the best he could. It was tricky with the severe burn, but he wasn’t about the let this man die. 

Hearing that Merlin's heart had stopped had been almost as painful as if someone had literally driven a sharp stake through his own heart; yet Arthur chose not to think about that. He couldn't think about that, not with Calvin's own men shooting at him and the rest of the Resistance.

The evil dictator wouldn't rest until they were all dead, that much was obvious with every bullet that nicked the stone columns all around him. Gareth and Pace were fighting one-on-one with two of the guards. Gemma....Arthur couldn't even see her. Louis was with Merlin, trying to save his life but honestly how much could he do in their present location?

Peeking out from the column he was hiding behind, Arthur aimed and fired off a shot and then took cover again. They needed to retreat, come up with a better plan. If they stayed they would be slaughtered.

Lex raced through the crowds. With her slingshot in hand, she knocked several men down with thumb-sized rocks. As one man aimed at her, she kicked him. Spying Arthur, she mouthed, ‘What are we gonna do?’ She whirled when she heard a scream. Lex watched as Elam crumpled to the ground; blood stained his shirt. 

The woman did not have time to go over to him when an ambulance pulled up to the gates. The blaring sirens stopped the fighting and Calvin’s men left. Cutting the metal bars, two paramedics went over to Merlin; another two went over to Elam. One of them hastily shoved Louis away. 

Louis walked over to Arthur. “I fought in Afghanistan and it was never this brutal,” whispered the man. He looked over at the blonde. “I got his heart started again. Barely, mind you. But, I did. I don’t know if he’ll make, though. He got burned pretty badly.” 

The man watched as the paramedics covered Elam. Such a young life cut short. Gemma stood on the other side of the platform, watching. When she saw Arthur, she raced over to him and threw her arms around his neck. Her whole body shook with sobs and grief; she held onto the man for dear life. 

Arthur was almost in trance. He was there and yet he wasn't there. He saw and heard the paramedics messing with Merlin. He also heard mention that Elam and twenty of his own men were slain. It must have been true because Gemma was clinging to him, her tears soaking in to his shirt and neck.

So much death - and for what? What had they accomplished that day? The Resistance had lost many of their own and another might still die! Calvin was still alive and well and so were all of the men in his ranks. Maybe he shouldn't be the leader after all. What was the use? They had Calvin in their grasp and yet he managed to slip away because he was just too powerful. Even Merlin hadn't been strong enough to defeat him!

Slowly Arthur peeled Gemma's hands away from his neck. He stepped away from her and left the cemetery. He didn't go far he just didn't want anyone to see the tears that decided to streak down his face. People had died for him...they had died in vain. He couldn't avenge them if he couldn't kill Calvin.

Gemma tried to follow Arthur, but Louis stopped her. "Let him process," he cautioned as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "He'll be back."

Getting Gareth’s attention, he gestured towards Arthur. "Follow him," Louis instructed. When the rogue smirked and nodded, Louis also smiled. Gareth might be a rough man, but he was loyal when the need arose. 

Gareth also left the ruins. As he did, Pace passed him a gun. "Thanks," he lauded. Soon, the man caught up to Arthur. However, he didn't say anything to him. Arthur would speak if he wanted to.

Arthur blinked when he heard snickering, blood shot and tear stained eyes scanned the next street over. There was a small group of six men all in leather jackets with short military style haircuts. It didn't take a genius to figure out that they were part of Calvin's group of personnel.

Arthur couldn't let them get away with it. They thought they had it all. Maybe he couldn't get Calvin yet but that didn't mean his men were untouchable! He would do things the hard way and take them down one person at a time!

Not even caring that there were paramedics close by, Arthur raised the weapon that his still in his hand. A couple blocks away, he came upon a large group of Calvin’s men dressed in their uniforms. He pointed the barrel at the group of men and then squeezed the trigger. The gun went off and the leader of that group dropped to the ground dead. 

Arthur took off running towards the group in hopes to press his advantage. He fired again and again as he ran. The survivors ran. Two more were hit by the bullets from Arthur's gun, joining their dead friend on the ground.

Gareth shot at the men as well as he followed Arthur. Most of them, he missed. Gareth wasn't the best shot. He worked better at fist fights. Arthur didn't seem to need his help though. Every time he aimed and fired, a person fell down dead. Soon, no one was left. 

"Hey, mate, it's over. They are gone. Dead. Besides, I don't think you've got much more ammo left. Let's take their weapons and head back to the compound. It's not every day we can get a hand on some firearms. It'll give us a little more advantage fighting. Now, we just gotta hide them," Gareth said as he held up the weapons. 

He stooped and began to get the guns. Double-checking to make sure they got the guns, Gareth looked around. The streets were oddly quiet. "Let's drop these off and go check on Merlin. That kid is something else. He's like Spider-Man, but better," he gushed.

Arthur didn't know what a Spider-Man was and at that moment he really didn't care. Gareth was right, the weapons should be taken but Arthur didn't plan on storing them. He planned to use them. Without a word he took three of the Berettas from Gareth, pocketing them immediately.

"Take the rest to the compound," he instructed, "I have something to attend to." 

Calvin's men hadn't even begun to pay for what they had done. He had bullets which had the names of Calvin's men on them. No one would escape from him! 

Arthur pushed Merlin's well-being to the back of his mind. He believed the other man to be dead anyway and he didn't want some surly physician to tell him what he already believed to be true.

Arthur didn't wait to be given permission or to be talked out of his decision. Calvin wanted a war? Well he was going to get one! Swiftly the blonde hurried off before Gareth could stop him.

Gareth wasn't stupid. He could tell what Arthur wanted to do. The man let Arthur storm off and then he called Pace. "We've got a situation. Arthur's ...being reckless. We're headed towards Big Ben. Need backup," Gareth whispered. Then, he closed the mobile and caught up to Arthur.

"You are going to get yourself killed. You are one man against hundreds. I know you want revenge. I do to. But, this is not the way. We will win. We will prevail. But, we need to act as a team. You can't do this alone," Gareth cautioned, grabbing Arthur’s arm and staring the man down. "You shouldn't. We need to regroup. Come on. Let's go. You already killed twenty men. Don't you think that’s enough for one night?"

Regroup, regroup, regroup that's all they ever did! Arthur wanted action. Yet, he only had twenty-one bullets and that wouldn't get him very far. It couldn't even get him to Calvin. A new plan had to be made and this time it wouldn't fail! They needed weapons; more than they currently had. That was reason enough, to stop and take stock; decide what had to be done next.

"It's enough for one night," Arthur finally agreed, "but I promise you that I won't rest until they are all gone, Calvin included." His tone was dark, almost menacing. It was clear that he meant what he said. He brushed past Gareth but this time he headed in the direction of their little base of operations.


	8. Chapter 7: Recouping

Chapter 7: Recouping

A florescent light bulb buzzed overhead. The zzzzz mixed with the soft bleep of heart monitor, blood pressure cuff, and nearly empty IV canisters. The glaring light from the said light bulb shined into Merlin's half-mast eyes. The little complimentary television blinked and a mummer of quiet voices came from it. From outside his cracked door, the warlock could hear buzzers and more voices of people who talked in hushed and urgent tones. 

However, he didn't know where he was (Merlin, in all of his years, had never been in a hospital). He also did not know what time it was; the blinds were drawn, after all, and the clock stated that it was 8 o'clock - whether it was at night or morning or in-between that was to be debated. 

Merlin looked about the room and noticed George sitting next to the bed. The young man’s foot was propped up on the chair he was sat upon, so his knee was bent up. Both arms were wrapped around the front of the knee. 

"Hey," Merlin croaked. He tried to sit up in the bed, but when pain seared through his torso, Merlin quickly stopped moving. "What time is it?"

"It's eight at night," George replied. He looked worried and tired. Dark circles were smudged under his grey eyes; they stood out sharply against his pale face. "You've been unconscious for two weeks."

"Two weeks?" the warlock echoed. "What happened?"

"Calvin struck you down with a fireball. It stopped your heart. Louis started CPR and got you going again. But, you got some pretty nasty burns. They got infected," George explained as he raked his hands through his already very spiky hair. "We've all been really worried. Arthur went on a rampage after it happened. He killed a couple dozen of Calvin's men before Gareth stopped him. Arthur was beet red and we were afraid he was going to explode."

Merlin smirked and shook his head. He didn't know what to think. He wasn't sure if he even was thinking. The pain medicines had made his mind all fuzzy. 

"I sent Arthur to get a bite to eat. I think he's bringing me something to. We haven't left this place since you were admitted. The nurses were not happy about it, but what were they going to do? We weren't breaking any laws," George continued. His voice was soft and warm. "I was scared. I don't think I have ever been this afraid. I thought I was going to lose you and didn't want to deal with that. You've become very important to me, Merlin."

"You screamed. I remember that. It was the last thing I heard," Merlin mused. "It wasn't like anything I had ever heard and I've heard a lot. It was heart-breaking."

George blushed. "I think my heart stopped for a moment. I really think it did break. Merlin, I like you... a lot. I think you like me, too. Arthur said you felt something, but were afraid to act. You didn't want to lose anyone else. I understand that. I really do. I don't think I would have three weeks ago, but I do now. You were almost ripped away from me and it sucked."

Merlin opened his mouth to say something. George, however, had other ideas; he wasn’t going to let him speak yet. To shush him, George held up a hand. Merlin understood the gesture and closed his mouth, which made the spiky-haired guy smile. 

“But, I’m only 25. I’ve got 70 some years left on this planet and I don’t want to spend them alone. I don’t want to spend them without you, Merlin,” George continued. 

Merlin blinked. “But, you could die tomorrow. We all could. I don’t want to end up being alone either and in the end, I will. No matter what,” he whispered. 

“Yeah, I could. We all could. But, we can’t live in with what ifs – not now. We got to take chances. Besides, when I am old and grey, I bet you’ll be tired of me and ready to move on.”

Merlin laughed. It felt really good to do it. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I really don’t.”

“Let this be your answer then,” George whispered as he got up from his seat. Over at the bed, he bent and took Merlin’s cheeks in his hands; then he kissed him.

Their lips were cautious. With care, the warlock’s mouth explored George’s lips. Tongue flicking out, he tasted the forbidden fruit (so soft, juicy and sweet). Breathless, George pulled away. 

Sweet, kind George looked at Merlin as the warlock snuggled his head into the pillow. As Merlin smiled, so did George. “Well?” he asked. 

“I guess we could give it a shot,” Merlin replied just as Arthur entered the room with three bowls of soup. 

"You're awake," Arthur remarked as he entered the room. The Resistance fighter put the bowls on the table after he came to the bedside.

"And you have three soups. Why?" Merlin replied. He tried to lean forward, he winced. The soups had smelled good to his quivering nose.

"Your doctor said you might wake today, so I brought some broth just in case...you woke," Arthur replied as he placed two spoons down on the table. "I thought you might be hungry."

"I am. Thanks," Merlin whispered. He didn't move for the soup. He still hurt and he was really tired. This moment was very humiliating. He couldn't do much for himself right now and it made him feel very self-conscious.

"Need help?" George offered. When Merlin nodded a little, he opened the lid as well as the plastic wrap spoon. Ladling up a bit of broth, George blew on it. He didn't want to burn Merlin's mouth.

"I will leave you two to your... thing. Merlin, make sure you sleep. George, make sure he sleeps. Can't heal if he's tired," Arthur stammered. 

George nodded. "Got it. We’ll get sleep. Don't worry," the spiky-haired man promised as Arthur left with his own bowl of soup.

In silence, Arthur headed out of the hospital and walked the two blocks to his ''home'. He didn't pay attention to his environment, although there wasn't a lot to see in the pitch black, and before he knew it, he was at his destination. Wandering the place, he chose the library. It seemed like the best place. He didn't feel like being in the kitchen, he didn't need to use the loo, and he wasn't ready to lie down on his cot. Setting the soup bowl down, he stared at the dimmed embers of the fire, which did nothing to light the room. The full moon, which streamed through the window, illuminated the space.

Hearing the door slide open and then closed, Arthur turned around. Gemma smiled at Arthur, but it fell when she saw his tears. "What’s wrong?" she asked as she went over to him. Reaching up, Gemma wiped the tears away.

"Merlin..." Arthur rasped out. When Gemma, with a horrified look upon her face, took a step back he added, "He's awake."

"That's wonderful news," she replied. A smile broke out over her face and to Arthur she was the most beautiful creature on earth right now; the smile made all the difference. “That’s hope. That means anything is possible. We’re going to be all right. I’m sure of it.” 

"It is. But, can we not talk about him and this? Please? It's all a mess right now. I want to forget it all, at least for a little while," the man begged.

Gemma's smile turned into a sly smirk. "I think that can be arranged," she told him as she slipped off her red sandals. Grasping the hem of her black tank top, she pulled it over her dreadlocks and tossed it into a corner so that all she wore was a pair of curve hugging jeans and a delectable black bra that pushed her breasts up and into place ever so slightly.

Arthur was taken aback from the sight he saw before him. Tentatively, he took a step forward and wrapped both hands around her creamy, dark waist and rested them on her hips. Gemma didn’t move, she let him hold him. Instead, she kept her arms to her side as she stared into his baby blues. 

His eyes lingered on her naval; it was perfect and round. Arthur found his eyes drifting upwards towards her cleavage to her neck, lips, nose (with its little silver stud glittering in the fading light), and finally the little eye dance ended as he locked his gaze with hers. 

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” Arthur whispered. “It is as if the Graces picked you out especially and doted upon you and blessed you much as they did with Helen.”

“So you think I could start a war,” Gemma replied with a giggle. “That is a very bold statement. Don’t you think? 

Arthur shook his head. “No, I don’t. I think you could win it,” he replied. “I think you’re supposed to win it.”

“Oh shut up, Arthur. Let’s forget about the bloody war. Us is all that matters right now,” Gemma cooed into his ear after she stood on tip toe. She lowered herself down so her feet were flat on the floor. 

Hands moving cautiously, she slipped them up his back and traced the scars that marred the otherwise smooth skin. Gemma ran her fingers along his spine, which made Arthur shiver against her digits. Sliding her hands back down, the woman grabbed the hem of his green shirt and pulled it over his head and tossed it next to her tank top on the floor.

“You’re beautiful,” Gemma remarked as she studied his chiselled chest and well-built arms all the while her hands explored the muscles that made up his upper limbs. As if by their own accord, her digits travelled up his forearms and biceps until they rested upon Arthur’s shoulders. 

“If Michelangelo saw you, he would quit his work because no sculpture could be as dashing as you are,” she continued. Her hands slid up the back of his head. She wove her fingers through his lusciously golden strands. 

Arthur’s hands went back to Gemma’s waist. He let his fingers wander until they cupped her bottom. Hiking her up, he held her against his body. She clung to Arthur; Gemma’s legs hugged his waist. 

Again, they stare into each other’s eyes. Their mouths were agape in hunger for passion, but it was Gemma who made the first move. She lowered her head and kissed his brow. Methodically, her lips moved down until they were locked with Arthur’s. She nibbled on his lips and she uncurled her fingers from his gorgeous head of hair. Still kissing him, Gemma worked her fingers down his back. 

He released her lips and lowered her to the ground in front of the dying fire. Arthur examined her half-clothed body as he straddled her. With nimble fingers, he unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off her hips. Gemma pushed them the rest of the way down until they settled around her ankles. With a swift kick, the pants went flying.

Lying in her underwear, she reached up and undid Arthur's jeans. Gemma shoved them down as far as she could, but Arthur had to finish taking them off. With the clothes out of the way, they began to explore each other. Gemma chose to massage every muscle of his body while Arthur explored every nook and crevice of the woman before him with his mouth. He particularly liked kissing her neck and between her breasts; oh how smooth and supple that beautiful flesh was!

Gemma hips gyrated upwards as he kissed her. He is hers and she knows it. Taking a finger, she slid his boxers off as he unlatched her bra and discarded her undergarments. Gemma pulled him closer - close enough for him to feel her hot breath on his neck. Gemma wrapped her arms around his torso and willed him even further down until Arthur lay on top of her.

Arthur and Gemma became one. Shifting just slightly, he hit the sweet spot. A flood of passion filled her chest. Her heart pounded and sweat poured as Gemma dug her fingers in as she pulled him even closer, if that was even possible. Arthur panted while caressing her breasts and nuzzling her neck. Soon again though, their lips locked.

His moan escaped into her mouth. Then, Gemma moans into his. Her brow puckered and furrowed as her head went back. "Ohh," she breathed.

"Are you okay?" Arthur asked. When she nodded, he continued and she let him. This was too good, too intense, to stop.

However, they did finally end their romp. With a contented sigh, Arthur and Gemma separated. The two halves were apart once more. 

Exhausted, the two sweaty and very flushed people cuddled. Gemma had her head on Arthur's chest. Both of her hands also rest a top the man, who stroked her dreadlocks with tenderness and care.

"That was amazing," she breathed. "Thank you."

Arthur nodded. "It was," he said while he kissed Gemma's forehead. "You were amazing. Is there anything you can't do?"

Gemma laughed and smiled. She did not answer him though. She wanted to leave him wondering; it would add some spice and pizazz the relationship. It was fun to discover things about the other person. 

"I hope we can do this again soon," Arthur whispered.

"Mmm...yeah," said a very sleepy Gemma. Her eyelids were already closed and she had snuggled into Arthur's lean frame.

"Go to sleep," Arthur muttered, while he kissed Gemma lightly on the lips. "I will be right here when you wake up."

"Mmm,..okay. Good night, Arthur," Gemma said. Her words were thick and slurred from tiredness. 

For a moment, Arthur watched Gemma sleep, but soon his eyelids were also feeling heavy. With one, large yawn, Arthur let his eyes close all the way. Then, he was asleep.


	9. Chapter 8: Back at It

Chapter 8: Back at It

Another two weeks passed and Merlin was finally released from the hospital. Most of that time had been spent recovering the strength he’d lost as well as healing up the burn on his chest and the broken ribs he’d received from hitting the wall. The warlock had wanted and even begged to go home, but neither George, Arthur, nor his doctor had let him.

Now, Merlin was pushed in a wheelchair out of the hospital and to Louis’s car. He had wanted to walk, but hadn’t got his way on this issue either. At the car, he pushed himself out of the seat and swung himself into the Jeep. 

“So, more people have joined our fight,” George gushed from the back seat. “Someone leaked some damning information about Calvin and…droves of people found us. This is the most hope I’ve seen in Britain in a long time and it’s all thanks to Arthur.” The spiky-haired man looked over at Arthur, who sat beside George, and punched him lightly in the arm. 

The blond-haired man in the back seat only rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders as if to say that he hadn't done much of anything. "All I did was tell the truth. It was up to the people to decide for themselves if Calvin was their saviour or not. I am just relieved that people realize he’s anything but. More join our cause every day. Soon we will have enough strength to properly challenge him."

Ever since Merlin's injury Arthur had made it clear that no more challenges would be attempted until they were ready. He didn't want anyone else to wind up in the hospital because of that man.

“Sometimes the truth is what they need to hear. Besides, you always had a way with words,” Merlin pointed out. “There was so much propaganda and smoke-screens that people didn’t know the truth. They didn’t see it.”

They pulled around the side of the warehouse. Before Merlin could do anything George had unbuckled and was at the passenger seat. When his boyfriend opened the door, Merlin laughed. “I’m fine, George. You don’t have to do that,” he mused as he slipped out of the door. 

“Maybe I want to,” George replied when he took Merlin’s hand. He led him into the edifice. Both had goofy smiles on their faces. 

No one was in the main room where the cots were set up for sleeping. This seemed a bit odd. There were usually about 30 or so people milling about the room. 

“Where’s everyone?” Merlin demanded, but George didn’t reply as he took Merlin to the kitchen with Arthur and Louis following close behind. The warlock looked over his shoulder at the other men and raised his eyebrows. 

‘What’s going on?’ he mouthed as they entered the kitchen. His answer came when he saw Lex, Gemma, Pace, and Gareth as well as several other Resistance fighters gathered around one of the tables. 

“Welcome home, Merlin!” they shouted. On the table was a cake with an image of Spider-Man transferred on the top. It made Merlin laugh. 

“Why?” he asked as he glanced at Arthur. Why were they holding a party for him? He looked over at Arthur, unsure of what he was supposed to do or say next. Merlin felt like he needed a bit of guidance and he wasn’t sure where to ask for it. 

Arthur smiled and shook his head. "It was all their doing," he replied. He knew that they were planning the party and he had helped get the ingredients for the cake, but he had been so busy that he hadn't been able to do more. Being a leader was hard because everyone looked to him for guidance. He was the one that was supposed to have all of the answers and sometimes he didn't.

"Glad you're back...enjoy your party..." Arthur bowed his head a little and then walked away. He entered the training grounds which was basically another large room. Part of the floor was wooden and part of it had foam mats on it. Seated on the floor was a group of around twenty people, all of varying ages. Pace, Gemma and the others were supposed to be training that day, but Arthur had let them have the party for Merlin instead.

A little while later, Arthur closed the door and then turned back to face the others. "Everyone pair up and get on the mat," he said, "We are going to work on hand-to-hand."

Merlin was glad when the party was over even if it had just been eating some cake. He didn’t like the attention; he never had. Working behind the scenes was what he preferred. The warlock didn’t really want the glory. 

A little tired, Merlin sat down on the mat and listened to Arthur’s instructions. Before he could choose a partner, Gareth sidled up to him while Louis and Pace teamed up. Lex and George chose to fight each other. Everyone continue to partner up until no one but Gemma and Arthur were left. 

She strode over to him. “Hey, partner,” Gemma said, “Ready to get started?” 

Arthur nodded his head and gestured towards the mat with his right hand. "Okay everyone. Sometimes in close quarters, weapons such as swords and crossbows are a bad idea. They can quickly become unwieldy and you can become disarmed in seconds. You need to know how to defend yourself and be able to disarm an opponent." Arthur nodded his head to Gemma and then began with the demonstrations. He flipped Gemma several times and even had her flip him on his back a few times.

Merlin watched Arthur for a few minutes to see what he did. Then, he turned to face Gareth. They took turns flipping each other. In the end, the two of them wrestled on the floor. After several more minutes, Gareth had pinned Merlin to the ground. 

Hopping off the warlock, Gareth offered a hand to Merlin to help him up. Grateful, he took it. “Hey, mate, you need a breather? You’re looking a bit pale,” he asked. 

“I’m fine,” Merlin said, quite out of breath. “Let’s continue, shall we? What’s next Arthur? I think we’re pretty good at flipping people.” 

Arthur smirked a little, but handed a blade to Gemma and instructed her to not hold back. When everyone looked at the pair, Arthur told them where to watch; the location of the blade as well as the opponents feet.

He then took up his position on the mat and gestured for Gemma to come at him with the weapon. The whole technique was flawless and was over in seconds from when she had charged. Arthur had first blocked the dagger, then he had twisted Gemma's arm to make her drop the blade and then he had flipped her on to her back with her arm still wrenched behind her. He held her in that position for a few seconds and then let her up.

“You’re good. Not great, but good. I let you win,” Gemma said. Her face paled then as she swallowed. “Outta my way, I think I’m gonna be sick.” She hurried from the room and went to the toilet. Closing the door, Gemma threw up repeatedly. 

After her stomach had settled, Gemma rinsed her mouth out and went back to the training ground. “I’m fine. I got too hot. It made me sick. Can we get back to work,” she asked.

Gareth sidled up to Arthur. “I think fine’s code for feeling like rubbish,” he whispered. “Merlin’s hurting and Gemma….who knows?” 

Arthur picked up the dagger and put it back with the others. Things were becoming ridiculous if they couldn't practice for more than fifteen minutes. "Okay everyone that's enough for today," Arthur said. It was time to dismiss the group for the day.

Gemma looked apprehensive. She had a feeling she’d messed up somehow. Feeling tears in her eyes, the dreadlocked woman left the room to start work on dinner 

Merlin didn’t leave. Instead, he sat down in a chair and leaned his head against the wall. “I’m sorry. I tried to keep up,” he apologized. “Tomorrow will be better. Do you think Gemma will be all right?”

"Who knows..." Arthur replied. Women in general were confusing. When they became sick it was always up in the air as to when they would feel better.

"Every single day that goes by..." Arthur muttered. They were running out of time. Calvin was destroying them from the inside out. Soon there wouldn't be any fight left in any of them.

“Don’t give up, Arthur. We will win. I know it,” Merlin promised. His voice held confidence, much as it had when he was Arthur’s manservant. “Sometimes, it just takes a little longer. We will get there.”

Merlin looked out the window. “Let’s take a walk. Clear our heads. I’ve spent a month cooped up in a hospital. I need some fresh air,” he said. “Besides, my doctor said walking would do me good. It’ll get my strength and endurance back up.” 

"Okay," Arthur replied. Even though Calvin's men were everywhere there were still a few places that were safe enough to go to.

Walking over to a barrel that held some provisions, Arthur reached behind it and grabbed his dark black hoodie. He slipped it over his head and put his arms through the sleeves. Pulling it over his body, Arthur walked back over to Merlin. "Let's go."

“Great,” Merlin said as he grabbed his black jacket. He slid into it, wincing as he did so. The burns still hurt a lot, but he tried not to let on that he was in pain. 

Exiting the encampment, they wandered along until they reached the nearby forest. It was quiet and peaceful. No one seemed to disrupt this place. 

Overhead, a couple military planes flew over. They were so low, Merlin could see the markings. “It looks like Ireland’s sending more men over to Syria to fight,” he commented as they wandered among the trees. “I would’ve thought the war would’ve been over by now.”

Merlin stopped as they exited into a clearing. He looked at the lake and smiled sadly. It was a beautiful place. 

Arthur had remained silent, his hands in the main pocket of the hoodie. He walked along the edges of the lake somewhat deep in thought. It didn't even occur to him that he was almost in the exact same spot where he had faded from that life all those years ago.

The wind whipped through his hair. Arthur glanced at the water and squinted. Something in there caused a spot in the water to shimmer.

Curious he entered the water, disappearing under the surface. He swam until his arms hurt; finally Arthur came upon something lodged just under the sand. Grasping it, Arthur lifted it out of the sediment and swam for the surface.

Merlin felt panic rise within him as Arthur suddenly dove into the lake. The warlock hadn’t seen the glint. He took off his shoes and jacket fully prepared to dive in after his friend if he had to. It was a long tense minute as he waited to see Arthur’s head break the water.

He was just about to dive in for Arthur, but the other man surfaced and was soon back on the shore. “What were you thinking?” Merlin asked. He wasn’t mad; he was just very concerned. You could have drowned!” 

Arthur coughed, the water dripped off of him. He looked down at the large object that he held. It was long with a gold and brown hilt and almost immediately he recognized it.

"This was mine..." he murmured, ignoring Merlin's exasperated questioning. “I saw the gold reflecting off of the water’s surface."

Merlin stared at the blade. He recognized it even with it speckled with mud. “Excalibur,” he whispered. “I haven’t seen it since I threw in there.”

He nodded towards the lake. “No one was supposed to use it but you, although others did use it on occasion. It’s your sword and yours alone,” Merlin said. “I had it forged for you.”

Reaching out, he touched the blade. He still felt the dragon magic that swirled within the metal. “It’s a very special sword. I think maybe we’ve just won the war,” Merlin quipped. “Like the blade that killed you, it was forged in a dragon’s breath. It will kill the un-killable, like when I used it on Morgana. Perhaps we could defeat Calvin with it too.”

Arthur tightened his grip on Excalibur, memories suddenly flooded into his mind. He remembered talking to the troops before the Battle of Camlann, fighting hordes of soldiers under Morgana's banner, fighting Mordred, and he could still feel the pain of being stabbed by the young knight. Arthur blinked, as he remembered Merlin revealing that it he had magic and then the bit with the fire where the warlock conjured up the image of a dragon. 

Realization hit him them as he slowly turned around 180-degrees. "This was it..." he said, "We came from over there," he pointed to some bushes, "I collapsed here. This was where I died..." It was a sobering thought to be standing in the exact some location where he had drawn his last breath.

Arthur pointed the sword tip to the ground, nodding his head a little. "Now we have a fighting chance. With Excalibur, Calvin will be brought down!"

Merlin looked about the space. His heart rate quickened. Sweat formed on his brow and he felt very shaky. The warlock had spent all this time avoiding the spot because he didn’t like the memories it brought about, and yet here they were.

He swallowed and pushed his dreary thoughts away. “We will,” Merlin agreed. “Calvin is not going to win.

Hearing a crunch of leaves behind him, Merlin whirled. He readied his magic just in case Calvin’s men had stumbled upon them. However, there was no need. It was George who came out of the woods. 

“Hey, you two,” George began. “I got worried when you two were gone, so I followed your footprints. You’re needed back at the compound I’ve got a surprise for you two. It’s a good surprise.” 

He grinned at them and then took Merlin’s hand, which George squeezed a little bit. “Come on,” the man urged. “Nice sword, by the way.” 

Arthur heaved a small sigh, but nodded his head anyway. Sometimes George's surprises, while he meant well, ended up being disasters. Given their current situation they really couldn't afford any problems.

"We shouldn't be out after nightfall anyway," Arthur said as he led the way back.

“You’re right. We’ll all end up in jail. Don’t want that, now do we?” George replied.

He led Arthur and Merlin back to the compound. It was just turning dusk when they got in. If they had been a minute later, the group would have been faced with weaselling their way out of trouble; the sounds of officers shouting at lawbreakers could already be heard. 

Gemma was there to meet them. “Hey. I’m glad George found you. Come on,” she said. The dreadlocked woman took Arthur’s hand and pulled him out of the kitchen and into a hallway. 

“Okay, close your eyes,” George instructed. “We’ll lead you.” He nodded to Gemma and the two of them directed Arthur and Merlin down the passageway. 

They stopped in front of a set of doors. Gemma opened one room door while George opened another door. Both were bedrooms. 

“All right, you can open your eyes now,” Gemma instructed. 

Arthur didn't like surprises, but he played along. Blinking, he eyed the room in front of him. The walls were plain, the floor concrete covered with colourful rugs to make it look like carpet. There was a large bed frame complete with a mattress, pillows, sheet sets, and comforter. There was also a small table and a lamp. It wasn't much, but for anyone in the Resistance it was almost bordering royalty.

"And who thought of this?" Arthur asked. He wasn't mad, just confused.

George and Gemma looked at each other with an apprehensive smile. Was that question a hint to his approval?

“We all did. We had these six extra rooms, but never knew what to do with them. The idea of bedrooms had been tossed around, but we weren’t sure who should get them,” Gemma finally said. “Do you like it?”

Merlin hadn’t opened his eyes. He enjoyed listening to Gemma talk. Merlin also hadn’t quite realized one of the rooms was for him. 

“Open your eyes, silly, and see your room,” George said. He pushed Merlin forward towards the other door. 

He also had a bed with a small table and lamp. Light blue carpet lined his room. “It’s perfect,” Merlin whispered. “Thank you. Who else has a space?”

“Louis, Lex, Gemma, and Pace,” he explained. “Gareth didn’t want a room. He likes the group setting.”

“What about you,” Merlin asked. 

“I’m fine,” George whispered. 

“Stay with me. I might get scared all alone,” Merlin joked quietly. 

“I don’t think anything scares you, but okay,” George hissed in the warlock’s ear. Louder, he said, “So, what do you think Arthur? Was this a good surprise or not?” 

Arthur didn't reply at first. He entered the room. Arthur looked around, a smile crossed his face when his back was to the others.

"Thank you," he finally said while he glanced behind him. He wasn't sure he actually deserved the room, but he wasn't going to turn his nose up at it either.

“You’re welcome,” Gemma said. She went over to Arthur and wrapped her arms around his waist. Standing on tiptoe, she rested her chin on his shoulder. “You deserve this. You’ve done so much for us. Thank you.”

She lowered herself down. “I’m going to go help fix supper. I’ll come get you when it’s time,” Gemma said. With that, she left the room. “Come on George. Help me with the salad.”

George kissed Merlin on the cheek before he left the warlock’s side. Merlin couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he watched as his boyfriend left. “This is too much,” Merlin said. “It’s amazing. I don’t remember the last time I slept in a real bed.” 

Arthur walked out of the room and handed Excalibur to their resident weapons expert. He really did nothing, but make sure their weapons were ready for use. After giving strict instructions concerning the sword to the man, Arthur patted the guy's shoulder and then went to Merlin's side.

"The last time you slept in a real bed..." Arthur said as he thought of all the times his friend could have slept in a bed. “well you deserve it, you have worked so hard."

Merlin’s cheeks burned. He felt a bit self-conscious about the fact he hadn’t had a bed (or even a room to call his own) for so long. “I think it was at my mum’s the last time I was in a bed,” Merlin mused. “Unless you want to count my stay at the hospital sleeping in a real bed, I haven’t had a bed or a room for a very long time.” 

He shrugged. “It’s kind of hard to have a room or a place. I haven’t exactly had stable work. I couldn’t have work or a home or anything due to my…immortality. Most of the time, it was sleeping under the stars or at a shelter even when it was freezing. I couldn’t take the risk.” 

"You could have worked for a while and then you could have moved," Arthur pointed out. He knew that immortality itself wouldn't have kept Merlin from working.

Inwardly he thought that it was low that Merlin blamed that for his poor living conditions. He didn't say anything.

“I did work, Arthur. I went around doing jobs here and there. I’d stay a week or two at a place. But, after a while I started to look old. My face wrinkled. My hair turned grey. No one would hire me. They thought I was too old. Maybe I was," he explained.

Merlin sighed. “I wanted a job, a long term job. I wanted a house, a permanent place. But, life in this modern world is very expensive. Most professions require higher learning. So, I never got any of it. Instead, I went about helped others for food or coins. It worked. Not well, but it worked,” he continued. 

“This is a hard world to get through harder than when we were young. People, nowadays, look for trouble in attempts to get famous. They try to find unique and different things, then exploit them… use them. There are cameras everywhere taking pictures and videos of life around them. So, perhaps my choices weren’t the best, but they were the only means of survival. I didn’t want to be used or tested on or…or exploited in a programme,” Merlin concluded. 

One time, he had been used. He’d been tested, poked, and tested; Merlin had barely escaped with his life. During WWII, someone had seen him, looking like a very old man, carrying an adult away from a fire without a struggle They had reported him and the Nazi’s captured him so their scientists could figure out how to make people stronger, faster, and live longer. 

Thinking about it sent panic through him. The colour in his face drained and he began to shake and sweat. “Please, don’t judge me. Please, don’t make me regret my choices. I did what I had to do. You don’t understand. I was used even though I didn’t want to be. It was during the Second World War and some people like Calvin saw me carrying someone out of a burning building. I looked ancient. But, they tested me and hurt me and shot things into me. I couldn’t face that again,” Merlin blurted. 

Arthur looked at Merlin, a confused look on his face. Just how had they gotten from the subject of work to that? WWII? People like Calvin? The Once and Future King didn't even pretend to understand. He hadn't seen the things that Merlin had seen, so he couldn't grasp the horrors Merlin had gone through.

"I can't promise that you will never go through that again Merlin. The world is full of people like Morgana and Calvin, but I will do my utmost best to protect you and everyone else," Arthur promised.

“I know you will,” Merlin whispered with a nod. He swallowed and took in a few deep breaths. Slowly, his panic subsided. “And I thank you.”

Merlin had seen the confusion in Arthur’s eyes. For a moment, the warlock had forgotten that Arthur had not experienced the holocaust. “I’ll be right back,” Merlin said. 

Merlin left the bedroom and went to the library. Choosing a large volume from the shelves, he carried back to Arthur’s room. He handed it to the man. “Here,” the warlock offered. “This book was written about fifteen years ago, but it chronicles the First and Second World Wars. It’s pretty thorough. It’ll explain what I’ve seen much better than I could ever could.” 

Arthur eyed the book. It was thicker than a phone book and three times as large. Just how was he supposed to speed read through that thing? It would take him years just to get through half of it!  
"Talk about light reading..." he joked while he lifted the book a little as if he were trying to judge how much it weighed.

He turned his head away to yawn. It was getting late and there was still so much to do. "If anyone asks, I am skipping dinner. Thank you for the book, Merlin. Good night," Arthur said. He was short and curt with Merlin because he hated to talk while in the midst of yawning and saying goodnight right then seemed the proper thing to do.

Entering his room Arthur used his foot to close the door. He went over to his bed and sat down on the edge, scooting himself back until he was in the big middle of it. He lay down on his side and flipped open the book. The chapters were long and boring, so dull in fact that the blond fell asleep before he even got through the second chapter.

Arthur opened his eyes to see smoke billowed all around him. A large building had been smashed to rubble and nearby structures was on fire. The air was filled with horrified screams and the sound of people running. Standing, Arthur gripped his sword and drew it from its sheath as he ran trying to follow the screams.

Running through the smoke proved to be difficult. He couldn't really see where he was going until he almost ran full force in to the side of a wall. Just great.   
"Arthur..."

The blond turned around, positive that he had heard his name called. He still couldn't see much of anything through the smoke.

"Hello?" he called, "Who's there?"

"Arthur...! Arthur please...! Don't let him...!" A female voice screamed. The cry sent chills through Arthur's body. He recognized the voice. How could he not? Gemma's voice was very distinctive.

"Gemma!" he yelled, while he pushed on through the smoke. He found an entrance through a wall and stepped through it into a large open area. The smoke was thin and allowed him to see a little better. It was clear enough that Arthur could make out a large building with white steps leading up to it with a grand looking fountain in the middle of the courtyard and two figures; one laid on the ground while the other loomed over her.

Arthur rushed over to the two figures, his heart beat wildly in his chest for fear that the figure on the ground was his beloved Gemma. 

"Gemma..." he whispered as he collapsed on to the ground next to her unmoving figure, "What happened? Who did this to you?"

"How does it feel, Arthur?"

Harsh breaths racked the blonde's frame as he angrily looked up to face Calvin. The man before him smiled. It curled and distorted his sharp features. No mirth was in the expression, only hate and cruelty. 

“How does it feel, Arthur?” he repeated. “To have the one thing you cherish more than anything this world taken from you. Just. Like. That.” He snapped his fingers along with the words. 

Calvin stepped closer. “All you worked for. All you dreamed of. It’s gone. Think of this as penance for the Pendragon sins,” he hissed. 

"While I live and breathe it’s not gone Calvin...you may have killed Gemma but there's no way I am going to let you walk away. You think this is going to break me? You are wrong!"  
Arthur tried to be strong even though tears sparkled in his eyes, threatening to roll down his face. Gemma wouldn't get to see the new world. But perhaps if Arthur did things right she would be Calvin's last victim.

“I see that cockiness is genetic. Your father’s father tried to stop me. Your father even,” Calvin remarked. “But, they couldn’t stop me. Not really. They were fools to try and tackle with me. You are too. They just put off the inevitable.”

Calvin raised his hand. He readied his magic to finish Arthur off. “Any last words?” he asked. 

"You aren't strong enough to kill me, Calvin. I'm like poison ivy. I just keep turning up!" Arthur said.

He rose to his feet and reached out to try and grab Calvin. It seemed as if time slowed down even further, Arthur's anger filled blue eyes glared into Calvin's smug dark ones.

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” Calvin snorted. “You’re a mortal. By definition, your life is finite.”

He raised his hand and his eyes flashed. As if the man was a marionette controlled by a puppeteer, Arthur rose several feet in the air. Then, shoving forward, Calvin pushed him into the wall. Releasing his magic, he watched as Arthur slid down the wall into a heap on the floor. 

Arthur woke with a gasp. The back of his head and his neck twanged with pain, mirroring the discomfort he had felt in his dream. It wasn't the first time he had ever dreamed of death, but that particular dream had scared him. It had seemed so real.


	10. Chapter 9: The Final battle

Chapter 9: The Final battle

There was something different about today. Hot and muggy, the August air was too still. The stifling atmosphere made Merlin nervous as he woke up, rolled over and looked at George. His boyfriend still slept and seemed unaware of any possibility of trouble. A little smile played on his lips as he lightly smoothed the blanket draped overGeorge. He was just as sweet sleeping as when George was awake. 

Making sure not to jostle the bed, Merlin slid out of the bed. Stepping out of his pyjamas, he chose a basic, practical outfit to wear. Dressed in his jeans and lightning bolt t-shirt, the warlock shuffled from his room and to the kitchen where Gareth was making French toast. 

“Good morning, mate,” Gareth greeted with a nod to Merlin. “Want some tea?” 

“Sure,” Merlin said, noticing the trash was getting full. “I’ll get myself a cuppa after I take the rubbish out.”

“Mm...kay,” he said, flipping the breakfast over so the other side would turn golden, brown, and delicious. “Be careful. Things are getting tense out there.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” Merlin agreed. Tying of the bag of trash, he slipped a new bag into the bin before heading outside. 

Things indeed were getting rough. People rioted against the government; some even left England for other countries. They wanted to fight in WWIV and protect their freedom and their country – they didn’t just want to sit around doing nothing. 

Merlin sighed as he threw the bag in the trash. Hearing a plane going over, the warlock looked up. Even after all this time, they amazed him; he liked to watch them as they went overhead. A frown formed as he watched something fall from the sky. Then, his eyebrows rose as he realizes what he’s seeing. 

A bomb hit a nearby structure. He ducked and protected his head with his hands as debris flew through the air. Smoke quickly surrounded the area. Coughing, he covered his nose with his arm and headed to the door. Trying the knob, he discovered the door had locked when he’d left. 

Panicked, he began to bang on the door with his hand. He hoped someone would hear him. If he didn’t get out of the smoke soon, he’d be toast. 

Hearing a noise, Merlin turned around. Something flew towards him. He dodged it, but still kept his arm over his nose. As it hit the ground, Merlin stooped and picked it up. There was something tied to a piece of brick. Untying the paper from the stone, Merlin unfolded it. He studied the words written on the parchment.

‘Give up Resistance. You can’t win. I know your plan. If it’s war you want, it’s war you’ll get.’

After Merlin read the note, he turned back to the door. He banged on it. “Open up,” Merlin coughed.

On the inside it was chaos. Everyone ran to and fro, believing they were under attack. Arthur kept busy trying to get information from those who had seen what happened. George was busy looking for Merlin; the last time he had seen his boyfriend Merlin had been heading towards the kitchen.

Outside, another plane went over and dropped a bomb behind the compound. Shockwaves of the explosion shook the ground, broke nearby windows and cracked the nearby buildings. More acrid smoke filled the air. Fires cracked and popped all around Merlin. 

More coughs racked his frame as the winds changed, which pushed more smoke towards him. He had to get inside before he suffocated. With one hand over his nose, he held up his free hand. Eyes flashing, Merlin knocked the door off its hinges. 

Merlin staggered into the compound. He picked up the door and put it back on its hinges. Using his magic, Merlin sealed the door so no smoke could enter the place. Still coughing, the warlock rested his hands on his knees as he tried to get a breath in. “We’re under attack,” he rasped, still unable to get a proper breath in.

The structure shook. Dust filled the air. There were shouts and the sound of feet running.

Arthur ran down the hall, helping to hand out weapons. Excalibur was clipped to his belt. He had a small dagger tucked inside his shirt.

"Arthur!"

The blonde turned to see one of the new Resistance members waving at him. Quickly Arthur moved over to her to look at a growing crack along the wall that was pointed out to him.

"Arthur! This place can’t take this! It is going to collapse!" the man said.

"Alright. Everybody out!" Arthur yelled. "Get everyone out! The building is going to collapse!"

If it were possible the sound of running feet got louder. Everyone was funnelled towards Merlin's direction. They needed to get out right then!

Merlin looked up when he heard the stampede. His eyes widened as he saw the people. The warlock straightened and then turned to face the door he’d just put back. It looked like he would have to blow it back out so they could safely escape. 

“Everyone, cover your mouths. There’s a lot of smoke out there,” Merlin warned. Again, he pressed his arm against his mouth. And again he held the other hand out. With eyes flashing, the door fell from its frame. 

What would they do next? Where would they go? It wasn’t like the Resistance could stay out here for too long. 

It took fifteen minutes for everyone to evacuate. It was none too soon because not five minutes later the building collapsed in on itself. Smoke and dust rose in to the air to mix with the rest of the smoke.

"We meet in the Tunnels!" Arthur yelled. The tunnels ran under the streets and sewers. Arthur, Pace and a few others had discreetly checked out the tunnels months earlier and had been storing provisions there in the event something happened to their base.   
"George!" Arthur grabbed the man and pointed to Merlin. "Take him to the tunnels. Take as many as you can!"

Merlin didn’t want to leave Arthur. But, he also didn’t want to leave George. Before he could truly decide what to do and before he could protest, Merlin found himself being manhandled towards the tunnels by Gareth. 

If his lungs hadn’t been partially clogged by smoke, the warlock would have either laughed at the worried expression on Gareth’s face or reprimanded him for shoving him about. Instead, he went with the flow of the group. 

However, as a third bomb went off, Merlin found himself free of Gareth. The explosion had caused the group to panic and start to run. One of the people who fled smacked into Gareth and knocked him down. Merlin wanted to stop to help his friend. But, he couldn’t.

When they finally got in the tunnels, Merlin stumbled deeper into the room. He sat himself down on a wall and put his head between his knees. Slowly, the warlock took in deep breaths that burned his chest. 

Had George gotten in there? Merlin hadn’t seen him, but it was kind of hard to find anyone in this panic. He, himself, felt edgy and scared. The warlock desperately wanted George next to him. He raised his head a little and looked through the crowd. “George,” he called in a quiet voice. “George?” 

Members of the Resistance were everywhere; they ran this way and that. Time seemed to slowly pass and still there was no sign of him, but then out of the cloud of smoke and dust George appeared. In his arms was a young lady who had a head wound and a leg that was obviously broken.

"I'm here Merlin," George assured after he put his bundle down on the ground and rushed over to Merlin's side.

"Everything's alright now..." he soothed as he rubbed his boyfriend's back.

Hearing George speak, Merlin felt tears well up in his eyes. He tried to keep them at bay. Weeping wouldn’t help him; it would just make it harder to breathe. “No, it’s not. I wish it was, but it’s not. We’re at war,” Merlin whispered. 

He handed his boyfriend the rumpled note that had been attached to a brick. “Someone threw this at me after the first bomb went off,” the warlock continued. 

Merlin coughed and put his head between his knees in attempts to open his airways a little more. “I’m having trouble breathing,” Merlin admitted. “I got a lungful of smoke when the strike first happened.”

He closed his eyes as George slowly rubbed his back. As he sat there, Merlin found his mind drifting back to past memories. “I’m so tired of war and violence. I’ve seen so many battles and I’ve seen so many people die,” he murmured in a raspy voice. “There’s been so much suffering in this world. It’s got to get better.”

“What if it doesn’t though? I don’t want to be captured, George. I don’t want to become an experiment…again. There’s a lot you don’t know about me and I’m sure there’s a lot about you I don’t know. I hope we get a chance to learn everything…the good, the bad, and the ugly,” Merlin mused. “By the Gods, I hope we do.”

Another explosion went off close by, which caused some of the Resistance to cry out and cover their heads. After the rumbling stopped, a voice rang out above the din, "Lucas! How many people made it?"

It was Pace, a worried look on his face as he approached a young man that looked to be sixteen-years-old. The young man shook, but he glanced at Pace when the older man addressed him.

"Everyone's here, sir, except Gemma and Arthur. No one has seen them since the explosions started,” the teenager said. 

Pace groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. "We can't wait for them. Make sure everyone is armed. If Calvin wants to fight then that's what he's going to get."

Merlin looked up. His lips were pressed tightly together. “I’ve got to go find them,” Merlin whispered to George. “I’ve got to protect them. It’s my destiny. I was born to serve Arthur and I will die serving Arthur.”

The warlock turned and took George’s face in his hands. “I love you. Don’t forget that. I love you and I always will,” Merlin said. He kissed his boyfriend on the lips and only parted when there was yet another rumble above them. 

Merlin stood. He grabbed a gun from Gareth; he was better with a firearm than a sword. Without looking back, he hurried out of the tunnels. “Arthur! Gemma!” he called out. 

Meanwhile, Arthur groaned and opened his eyes. What the hell had happened? He remembered the bombs going off, telling George to take the others to the tunnels, and then things began to get sketchy. He remembered that he had started for the tunnels. However, an explosion had rocked the building he had been beside, which caused it to crumble; that's the last thing he remembered.

Arthur looked around with a sigh. It was only then that he realized what had happened. He had been hit by the rubble of the collapsed building and knocked out.

Now the bombs had stopped. It was eerily quiet. Dust and smoke still filled the air making it difficult to see and breathe.

With a groan, he climbed to his feet and moved off. He was disoriented, not sure where he was. All of a sudden a scream filled the air causing the blood in Arthur's body to run cold. "Gemma..." he whispered, running in the direction he thought the scream had come from.

Merlin also heard Gemma cry out. It was faint, as if from a distance. However, it gave him a clue as to which direction to go. He needed to save Gemma as well as Arthur. Maybe, just maybe, he would find them both. 

Stumbling through the battleground, Merlin dodged rubble and corpses. He wished he had time to pull them aside and lay them neatly along the roadside, but there was no moment to spare. As he heard Gemma scream again, Merlin hurried forward.

Foot catching on a rock, Merlin tumbled forward. He caught himself just before his nose hit the pavement. “Ooomph,” the warlock grunted as he looked up. Through the haze, he saw a form. 

Warily, Merlin stood and headed towards it. He sighed with relief when it was Arthur. “You’re alright,” Merlin said.

Arthur's face had a fine layer of dust on it. He also had some scratches. But other than that, he looked okay.

"You heard it too?" Arthur questioned as he ignored Merlin's statement. "You heard Gemma?"

Merlin nodded. “Yeah, of course I did. I’m many things, Arthur, but deaf is not one of them,” remarked the warlock. “We will find her.”

He looked around. Steadying his breathing, Merlin let his magic flow. The warlock let the fingers of his magic search the city for Gemma. Slowly, the scenery dissolved into grey squares and rectangles. In the distance, about a mile away, he saw an orange, glowing form. 

“I found her. This way!” he shouted. Without waiting, Merlin ran past Arthur. 

Arthur didn't question Merlin when the warlock suddenly said he found Gemma. After all that he had seen, even before he had died so very long ago, Arthur knew better than to question it and just go along with the flow. Hand falling to Excalibur's hilt, Arthur dashed off right behind Merlin.

"Lead the way!" the blond instructed, having seen no such glowing form.

Merlin didn’t look behind him. He didn’t want to break his connection. “Glad you trust my instincts for once,” Merlin joked. “My magic allows me to search for things we’re looking for like people or exits.” 

He walked as fast as he could. The glow of Gemma’s energy slowly got brighter and bigger. Merlin noticed the light falter as another, louder, cry filled the air. The grey shapes shifted slightly as the buildings came back into focus.

Merlin stopped and felt for his magic; it flickered warmly inside his chest. He searched through and around the buildings without moving. His magic was taking him on this journey. 

After a minute, he found her. Terror shined in her wide, dark eyes. Blood dripped from a head wound as well as down her chin. He saw that the side of her purple t-shirt bloomed with blood.   
“I found her. She’s hurt and she’s scared,” Merlin explained. His voice was tense. “She’s in Globe Theatre.” That confused him. Why was she there? How did she get there? Merlin took off again in the direction of the infamous playhouse. 

Arthur followed along, evening out his pace. It wouldn't do to wear himself out and not have the strength to fight once he got to the playhouse. He knew of the Globe Theatre; knew how huge it was. For the final hammer to fall this was a little strange, but no matter...Arthur was determined that it would all end that day!

The moment the two men got to the Globe Theatre it became apparent that things were not going to be as simple as they once thought. The gates that surrounded the theatre's entrance were closed and locked. Gemma was nowhere to be seen, but there was a trail of blood leading inside the building.

“Stand back,” Merlin instructed. He held up a hand and broke the lock on the entrance. The door swung open, creaking as it did. 

Stepping into the Globe, he walked the hall until reaching another door. Trying the handle it opened out onto the stage. Down in the pit, Gemma lay with Calvin near her. Calvin’s men were in the balcony seats. 

“I’m glad you could make it to our show,” Calvin called. 

Gemma was hurt. There was a large wound on the side of her head that bled profusely and there were smaller cuts and bruises all over her arms and face. She laid on the floor, hands tied behind her back and a gag in her mouth.

"Let her go!" Arthur demanded. His gaze darkened as he looked down at Calvin. 

Calvin, however, just grinned. "You aren't in any position to make demands, Pendragon. Before you could reach me I would already have snapped her neck, so don't do something foolish. I have every intention of releasing her, but you must give me something in return. You cannot get something for nothing."

Arthur didn't believe anything the other man said. But, Calvin did hold all the cards. Even with Merlin as powerful as he was they would never make it through the horde of men in time to save Gemma.

"What could you possibly want?" Arthur asked.

"Merlin..." Calvin said as he lifted his head a little to address the warlock directly. "I would have Merlin join me and together he and I would rule the world. I would have Merlin crush the Resistance until it is no more. You may think you know what will happen here today Merlin, but I have seen the future. I have seen how we shape the world into our image. I see how together we bring our enemies to their knees. This is your destiny Merlin, to rule at my side."

Merlin stared at Calvin. He shook his head. It was a slow, but very deliberate movement. Joining Calvin was something he could never do even if meant dying in the process. 

An idea formed in his head. Could Merlin talk to Prime Minister Styles long enough to distract him? Could he buy them enough time for Arthur to sneak in and kill him? Merlin wasn’t sure, but he was going to try. He hoped Arthur could figure out Merlin’s half-cooked plan. 

“Give me one good reason why I should help you? Give me a reason not to fight you anymore? I have seen the destruction and the grief you have caused. If…I join you, things have to be different. The British people are afraid. They are hungry and they are unhappy. Give me a reason why I should betray my friends. One really good motive,” Merlin began. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a group of the Resistance sneak in. Pace, Gareth, Louis, Lex, and George as well as a slew of other people had followed them. They were fools, but at this time they needed such foolishness – Arthur and Merlin were outnumbered. 

He shook his head. “I could never betray my friends. I could not crush them. I could not rid England of the Resistance. I believe in goodness. I believe in the cause. But, you can have me. Just leave the rest of the Resistance alone. Kill me. Take my magic. I know there are tools out there that can drain it from me. But, I will not rule with you. Besides, having all that power and not having to work with a second person…that’s a better deal isn’t it?” 

With an unspoken order given, four men rushed up the steps and grabbed Merlin and Arthur, separating the two of them. Merlin was quickly dragged to stand in front of Calvin while Arthur was dragged off to the side, Excalibur being taken from him.

"I gave you the chance to join me and you threw it in my face. It was a big mistake and the last one you will ever make. It is just a shame your friends will have to suffer with you!"

Calvin raised a hand and a ball of energy engulfed Merlin. Yellowish bolts of electricity hit Calvin, zapping him withMerlin’s strength and magic.

Looking up at his men, Calvin nodded to them and just watched as they brought Arthur and Excalibur over to him. Calvin admired the sword after he took it from one of his men.

"Such a beautiful blade...it almost seems a shame to soak the blade in your blood, Pendragon,"

Arthur just glared at him. "If it's going to soak in anyone's blood it's yours!" he declared.

George watched as that man – that evil, hideous excuse of a man – struck his boyfriend down. Screaming, George charged forward. He didn’t stop until he knocked the man to the ground.  
The blade slid from his grasp. “Get it, Arthur!” He probably couldn’t hold onto the guy for long, but this little action might give Arthur enough time to get the upper hand. 

As George unwisely tackled Calvin, the others charged forward. Gunshots rang out. The first ones came from the Resistance. Soon, Calvin’s Calvary joined in the foray and shot right back. 

Arthur dove for the blade. If what he thought was true, it was the only thing that could actually kill Calvin. Excalibur had slid across the waxed wooden floor a few feet away. Reaching out his hand, the Arthur just managed to touch the hilt of the sword before a stray bullet hit the blade, which caused it to slide just out of reach.

With a grumble in his throat, Arthur crawled up on his knees and dove forward once more. He managed to grab on to the sword as he rolled off of the stage. He tightened his hold on Excalibur, preparing to launch himself back out onto the floor again. The waxed flooring would help as long as he could keep his balance on it and not fall to the ground like an idiot.

A clicking sound made the blond pause for a second. Whirling around Arthur, thrust Excalibur's blade outward just as a loud popping sound filled the air.

"Got you!" one of Calvin's men; a thirty year old with brown hair and blue eyes, said. The barrel of his gun still smoked a little.

"I got you too..." Arthur shot back as he pushed Excalibur in to the man's chest a little more. With a somewhat grim satisfaction the blonde watched as his attacker fell to the floor dead, Excalibur slid out of the man's body as he hit the ground.

Arthur looked down at himself with a grimace that wrinkled his nose and lips. At first he saw nothing but a small bullet hole in his hoodie and then red immediately started to blossom on his chest. There had been no pain at first, but when he saw the blood the agony ripped right through him. Taking his hoodie off, Arthur wrapped it around him to provide some pressure to the gunshot wound as well as a makeshift bandage. With that done he took hold of Excalibur once more and stood up, rushing out on to the stage. He wasn't going to let some little bullet stop him from taking Calvin out of the equation. Running over to Calvin and George, Arthur crashed in to the two men. This movement sent all three of them to the ground.

George coughed as he slid into a stone pillar. He was fine just a little winded. Not letting that stop him, George was up and moving in an instant. Usually sweet George pulled out his gun and shot at one of Calvin’s soldiers. He ducked behind the pillar as he was shot at in return. 

Peering out, George shot at anyone who tried to get close to Arthur and Calvin. The other Resistance fighters did the same. Maybe they would win. 

He noticed Pace wade through the crowd; shooting at the Calvary. His aim was true. Then, George noticed someone sneaking up behind Pace. “NO! Watch out!” George yelled out. But it was too late; a bullet struck the burly man, felling him. 

A feral scream ripped through the air. Louis had seen Pace’s death, too. The man, who had been a fighting machine, was now fighting harder; Pace’s demise seemed to drive more oomph into his strategy. Everyone seemed to fight harder and better after their friend’s passing. Even Gareth managed to shoot a few of the Calvary without missing. 

George shot at Calvin’s men until his gun went click, click, click. He was out of bullets. It seemed many of the Resistance were running out of bullets, too; they had switched to sword or hand-to-hand combat. 

The sound of gunfire began to dwindle until it stopped completely. It was soon replaced by the sound of grunts and punches. Even so, it was as if Calvin and Arthur didn't notice. Both men rolled around on the floor trading punches.

Calvin delivered a lucky punch to Arthur's side, directly on top of his bullet wound. This caused Arthur to double over. Calvin seemed to grin but that grin quickly faded from his face when Arthur lashed out, plunging the sword through Calvin's chest.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” moaned Calvin. His eyes fixed as his body slumped to the ground. With one last hiss of breath, the life seeped from him. He and his heinous dictatorship were dead. 

As the life left Prime Minster Styles, two things happened in quick succession. An impressive storm of yellow-energy exploded from Calvin. Dancing in the air, it found its proper place within Merlin, which caused him to gasp as it entered him. Merlin’s body bowed upwards from the force of the magic as it seemed to reclaim its rightful place within him. Seconds after the light faded, Arthur's blue eyes rolled up inside his head as he slumped forward. He collapsed onto his stomach where he laid still; his right hand still curled around Excalibur's hilt.

For a moment, Merlin lay there on the floor as he tried to get his bearings. He felt stronger than ever, but he also felt exhausted and drained; what a contradiction of feelings. Shaking a little, he sat up and looked around. There were so many corpses littering the grand theatre. But, they had won.

Calvin's men, those that were still alive, either ran off, gave up or died right where they had fallen. The members of the Resistance either dealt with those that surrendered or checked on the dead. Gareth and Lex were knelt by Pace taking care of his remains, while Louis helped Gemma to her feet.

George calmly looked around the room. After running out of bullets, he had thought it was all over. But after Calvin met his maker something had seemed to fall apart within the dictator's men and they seemed to give up. He sighed, a smile coming to his face. It was over...they were free.

Spying Merlin on the floor, George rushed over to him and enveloped him in a hug. Tears of joy rolled down his cheeks. "We did it!" he joyously proclaimed. "It's over!"

Merlin held George close. His fingers curled around his boyfriend’s shirt. Breathing in George’s scent, he just sat there clinging to George as if for dear life. It was over. They had won. 

“I’m sorry for what I did. I’m sorry. I couldn’t join him,” Merlin mumbled after a few minutes. “I just…I had to do something to stall him… to distract him. It was the only thing I could think of. Calvin wanted power and I had it. So it was the only thing I could think to say to give Arthur some time.”

At the mention of Arthur, Merlin released George. After he stood, Merlin hurried through the playhouse. The warlock examined each corpse until he found Arthur. Falling to his knees, he rolled Arthur over.   
“Arthur. Arthur, come on! Wake up,” Merlin demanded. He patted Arthur on the cheek and then shook him. “Come on. Wake up, you prat. We’ve won. It’s over.”

His voice grew husky. No. No, this could not be happening again. He would not lose Arthur a second time; not after just getting him back. 

Arthur stirred a little, but didn't wake up. Still it was enough to tell George that their leader was still alive. Untying the knot in Arthur's hoodie, George pulled it free and tossed it to the side, only to reveal a shirt soaked with blood; a single bullet hole shredded through the shirt and burrowed into skin. Instinctively, George pressed down on the wound with his hands. This elicited a moan from Arthur's lips, but still he didn't wake up.

"Merlin, you have to do something," George said. "You have to use your magic!"

Hearing George speak to him, Merlin jumped. He looked up at his boyfriend. “I don’t know if I can,” he whispered. Merlin’s face was pale and he shook. “My magic is all but useless with healing.”

George swallowed nervously. "If you don't do something he's going to die!" He didn't know that for a fact, but he recognized the look on Arthur's face. It was the look of someone on the brink of death.

Merlin looked over at Arthur. “I’ll try. But, I can’t promise anything,” he promised. He brushed George’s hands away from the damage. Without the fingers staunching the flow, the blood trickled from the wound.

“Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare mid þam sundorcræftas þære ealdaþ æ!” Merlin shouted. His eyes flashed yellow. He removed his hand, but there was still blood. Merlin tried again and then again. After one last attempt, he collapsed back.

Sitting there, he was very pale and sweaty. “Please, let it have worked. Please, let it have worked,” he prayed through huffs of breath.

George seemed to hold his breath as well, his own eyes on their leader. Ten seconds went by; those ten seconds seemed like ten hours to the two men. Suddenly, Arthur let out a cough and opened his eyes, colour returning to his face.

"Merlin," he mumbled, "how many times have I asked you to quit shouting when I'm trying to sleep?" Arthur had a small, amused smile on his face; the only indication given that he was joking.

Merlin glaced up when he heard Arthur speak. A large grin was on his face. “You know I never do as I’m told,” he replied. He let out a relieved laugh as he wiped tears from his eyes. 

“It’s over, Arthur. Calvin’s dead. We’ve won,” Merlin said as Gemma staggered over to them. 

She threw her arms around Arthur’s neck. “I’m so glad you’re alive! Louis wouldn’t let me come over here until he checked me out,” Gemma grumbled. “Don’t do that again! Don’t go up and practically die on me like that.” 

Merlin laughed at that. He couldn’t help it. Sliding over to George, he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. “Thank you,” he mumbled in a tired voice. Merlin was exhausted and he shook from the weariness. “Thank you for pushing me.” 

George grinned and then kissed Merlin on the cheek. "You would never have forgiven yourself if you had done nothing," he pointed out. "I know you. I know how your mind works."

Merlin shook his head against George’s shoulder. “No, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself. I let him die once. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it had happened again,” he whispered. “It’s my destiny to protect him.” 

Gemma, who was beside Arthur, helped him to sit up. "We lost a lot of people today, including Pace," she said, tears once again coming to her dark eyes.

Arthur stared down at the ground. He was surprised and saddened that one such as Pace could just be gone. It was hard to accept, but he had to. He had no other choice.

"Those we lost today, they didn't die in vain. They fought and died for this new world. They fought and died to give everyone else a chance at a new and better life. Their sacrifice will never be forgotten," Arthur assured.

“No, it won’t. They died heroes,” Merlin said, getting to his feet. He pulled George up and wrapped an arm around his boyfriend’s waist. Part of the reason for doing so was for emotional support, but another part was for physical support; Merlin felt like he could just lie down and sleep for a week. 

Merlin looked around him at the bodies that had been moved and laid neatly in a row. “We should go. We need to plan and prepare for this new phase,” the warlock suggested. 

Arthur nodded his head as he let Gemma and Gareth pull him to his feet. "Most of Calvin's forces are dead. Those that aren't are either fleeing or surrendering," Gareth said. 

"No more fighting," Arthur instructed, "those that run...let them go. We've made our point. It's time to stop now. Our war is over."

As one, the small group left the theatre; leaving the bodies of the dead where they lay.  
"Arthur, don't forget this!"

The Once and Future King turned to see Lex. She held a freshly wiped Excalibur out to him. With a smile, Arthur took hold of the sword. "Thank you," he said. Wrapping an arm around Gemma, he kissed her forehead as they continued to walk on.

One part, the hard part was now over. Now it was time to pick up the pieces and move on. The United Kingdom was free. How it healed was up to the people, but Arthur suspected they would want another ruler. Perhaps they would even choose him.

He had been King once. It was a difficult task and it required one to put the needs of the people before their own. Arthur had ruled fairly and justly. He silently promised himself that he would do so again if the people chose him to rule, but he also knew it was too early to think about that. Now was the time to take stock of their position, not plan for the future.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Arthur said, a smile on his face.


	11. Chapter 10: News and Aftermath

Chapter 10: News and Aftermath 

Many had died in the final battle against Calvin and his soldiers. It wasn’t just people from the Resistance, but civilians too. That was the cost of war and freedom, though. 

Only a week had passed since Calvin’s demise; London was still cleaning up the mess and attempting to identify the casualties. A few areas were starting to be rebuilt, but only in the areas that had not been heavily hit. 

No one was sure of what to do with England’s government. Actually, they weren’t sure what to do with the lack of political control. Whispers of reviving the monarchy were spreading fast and furious. 

Most people knew what to do with their day-to-day lives. People were civilized. Little to no looting happened. In fact, store owners opened their shops and restaurants while the doctors kept their hours and pastors married couples. All the men and women of the Resistance still lived in the underground compound; they didn’t have anywhere else to go yet. Everything was normal.

Or was it? Gemma had been feeling off for several weeks. She hadn’t told anyone (although Gemma was pretty sure the people closest to her had probably noticed the irritability and morning bouts of nausea) nor had she gone to the doctor. But, when she had missed her period, the dreadlocked woman had gone to get a pregnancy test. 

Six in the evening and she sat on the toilet seat waiting for the results. A little timer beeped. Scrambling, Gemma picked up the stick. She just stared at it when she saw the results. Numb, Gemma jumped when she heard a knock on the door. 

"Gemma?" a tired sounding voice called from the other side of the door, "About done in there?"

The voice belonged to Arthur. Ever since Calvin had been overthrown, the Once and Future King had been out there among the people helping them clean up and rebuild.

He hardly had any time alone any more. If he hadn't been busy before, training the Resistance to take on Calvin, he was busy now helping everyone start over again.

She turned when she heard his voice. Gemma wanted him to be able to hear her. “Yes, Arthur, I’m done,” Gemma called through the closed door. 

Feeling shaky and sweaty, she went to the door and opened it. “Come in. Please. I’ve got something to tell you,” the woman said. 

Arthur didn't pick up on the fact that Gemma seemed nervous. All he wanted to do was change his bandages, wash his hands and go to bed. It had been a long day; well it had been a long week. 

Arthur sniffled a little as he stepped into the bathroom. "What is it?" he asked. He stepped over to the sink and turned on the water, giving the flow a few minutes to stabilize and cool before he dipped both hands in. With fingers cupped together, the water filled the makeshift cup in seconds and Arthur splashed his face with the water.

Gemma stared at Arthur as he washed his face. How was she supposed to tell him? Would he even be happy or just freak out? Was either of them ready? They’d just been through a war! Maybe she should wait or get another test. 

She was chickening out and she was stalling. If Gemma didn’t say anything now, she would end up trying to hide the truth until it was too late. Slowly, she took a deep breath in and then released it. 

“Arthur,” Gemma began. She grabbed his arm and turned him around to face her. Holding onto his wrists (she didn’t want him to flee), Gemma continued, “I’m pregnant.”

Pregnant. The word seemed to echo slightly as Arthur's mind struggled to process it. He was silent, blue eyes just staring at her. 

“Uhh,” Arthur stammered. Suddenly his eyes rolled back in his head. He fell back, hitting the sink before he slid down to the ground unconscious.

Before he hurt himself too badly, she eased Arthur away from the sink. She checked his head, but only found the start of a goose egg forming. She grabbed one of the heavy towels. Keeping it folded, Gemma slipped it under his head. This was not the response she had expected. 

Filling a cup with water, she splashed it into his face. “Wake up,” Gemma begged. She usually did not beg, but this was important. “Please.” 

The cool water helped wake him. But it was still a good thirty seconds before Arthur opened his eyes. He looked around with a bury gaze as he tried to get himself readjusted to his surroundings. 

He groaned and grimaced. Arthur raised a hand to touch the sore spot. "Did you just say you were pregnant?" he asked.

Gemma nodded. “Yes, Arthur. I did. I’m pregnant,” she replied. Her voice shook. “I just took the test and I passed it.” The woman held the pregnancy test in front of Arthur to show him this wasn’t a joke. 

“It’s why I haven’t been feeling brilliantly. We did have sex and that’s how you make a baby,” Gemma stammered. “And I sure wasn’t wearing protection. I doubt you were either. Did they even have any back from when you lived?” Leaning her head back against the sink, she began to cry. 

Struggling a little, Arthur managed to sit up and wrap an arm around Gemma. He really didn't know what to say at first. She was pregnant and the child was his. Years ago, when he had first lived, he had never thought about having a family, he had only wanted to make his father proud of him. Now, that time had come and gone. This time, instead of a kingdom, he was to have a child.

"No, if it happened it happened," Arthur said in response to Gemma's question. "But it's okay Gemma. We'll get through this together." He smiled a little and rested a hand on Gemma's stomach.

She shook her head; her dreadlocks brushed against Arthur’s cheek. “I’m not ready to be a mum, Arthur. I’m not mother material,” Gemma sobbed. “We’ve just finished a bloody war. London’s rebuilding and you’re a part of it. How can we have a child, now? They want you to lead new London. They want you to be the king. I don’t think I can do this. I don’t know if I want to.”

Gemma was panicking; she was scared and she didn’t know what to do. The woman barely knew what she uttered nor did she really mean it. Growing up, she hadn’t had family. Her mother died in childbirth and at fifteen her father had been killed in a hit and run. She didn’t really have a good basis for parenting. 

"I knew someone who once thought as you did. She was the love of my life and yet she didn't feel ready for a family. I didn't push her because when she and I became one she had a vast number of responsibilities she had to attend to. I always believed there was time...time to wait, do things properly before worrying about a child. I was wrong and when my time came...in the end she was left alone. I don't want that to happen again. Gemma...I love you. I have loved you since I first saw you. You are carrying our child, which is an amazing thing. I want to be there for you and the baby...I want you in my life. Gemma, I know this is a frightful time for you right now but...Gemma...will you marry me?"

Arthur studied Gemma's face. He couldn’t help but wonder what her reaction would be to everything that he had said. Would she think he was crazy or slap him?

Gemma kept her head upon his shoulder as he told his story. She only moved when he asked her to marry him. Bolting up, as if struck by lightning, Gemma stared at him through red-rimmed eyes. 

“You want me to marry you? Are you serious?” she demanded. “Don’t just ask me because I’m carrying our child. Don’t. Please. A lot of women raise their babies on their own and do just fine.” 

"I am not asking because you are pregnant. I wanted to ask you before but it never seemed the right time, with Calvin making things difficult and training everyone, not to mention Merlin's injury...there was never any time, but I am asking now. Gemma...please...will you marry me?" 

Arthur didn't really want to think about it if Gemma actually said no. He knew he would be heartbroken. But he wouldn't press her to change her mind.

Gemma stared at Arthur, as she sized him up. She attempted to figure out whether or not he had asked out of pity and had just told her it wasn’t due to their growing bundle of joy. But, Arthur had begged her. Usually, he didn’t plead. 

“All right,” she said. “I’ll marry you.” Gemma leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Then, she settled her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. 

The library had been Merlin’s destination when he passed the bathroom. He stopped when he saw both Gemma and Arthur on the floor. “Is everything all right?” he asked. 

Arthur was having a hard time keeping the goofy grin off of his face. He was sure Merlin could see it. The warlock was standing right there in the doorway.

"Everything's fine Merlin, Gemma and I were just talking about something," Arthur looked at his fiancé for a split second. The grin was still on his face before he turned his attention back to Merlin. "She's agreed to marry me."

Merlin knew he’d missed out on something. The picture before him hadn’t seemed complete. Arthur and Gemma were on the floor with a folded up towel and a little, white stick. But, he hadn’t expected Arthur’s answer. 

“When did you decide you wanted to marry her? You’ve known her….four…five months,” Merlin asked. He was shocked at the news. 

That probably wasn’t the reaction Arthur was looking for. Merlin was shocked. He had known Arthur and Gemma had something going on, but didn’t know it was serious. 

“Congratulations! You and she deserve to be happy,” Merlin said after regaining some composure. He strode into the bathroom; he wanted a better look at the white stick. 

It was a pregnancy test – a positive one. It was yet another new detail to the story. “Is she pregnant?” he inquired. 

The smile on Arthur's face faded. He looked from Merlin to the pregnancy test and back. He hadn't really appreciated Merlin's reaction because it had sounded like an accusation. But Merlin had seemingly backtracked and now he had mentioned the test.

"Yes she is," Arthur said a little warily, his arm still tightly wrapped around Gemma.

Merlin’s brow furrowed a bit. This should be a happy time for them (regardless of the shock it had given the warlock). Arthur didn’t sound exactly pleased and Emma looked like she’d been crying. 

“You don’t sound happy about it…about her pregnancy,” he pointed out. “Are you? Is Gemma? A baby’s a good thing.”

"I can't answer for Gemma, but I for one am still trying to wrap my head around it. I am happy though; thrilled to have a child," Arthur replied. He didn't mention Gwen to Merlin, unsure if the warlock would even remember her at all.

Merlin smirked a little. “Destiny is a funny thing. It’s like a living, breathing thing waiting for things to happen. You were supposed to unite Albion, but you didn’t get a chance. Now, things are falling into place for you to rule England,” the warlock began. 

“And you were supposed to have a family, but you never got a real chance to do so. You and Gwen were together for such a short time. At least, I assume you were supposed to have children with her. I always thought it was part of the royal package. But, now, you’re going to have it with Gemma. Things are becoming right and proper,” Merlin concluded. 

"You remember Gwen?" Arthur was surprised. Yet, he was happy that he wasn't the only one who could see her sweet, smiling face.

He chose to ignore Merlin's statement about ruling England. He had been a King once. He had done his best to live up to his father's expectations. Now it seemed that people wanted him to take the throne once more. He did have a right to it didn't he? He had been a royal, but that had been so long ago.

“I remember everything Arthur. Every moment of every day,” he said. “I remember our first meeting and your last words to me. I can still feel your hand against the back of my head as you took your last breath.”

He pressed his lips together as he thought about it. The memory was still very painful. “I never returned to Camelot. I couldn’t,” Merlin admitted.

Arthur nodded his head. "I understand," he said. He too remembered their first and last meeting. It was remarkable how their friendship had developed over the years, from an annoying talkative manservant to a friend.

"Things happen for a reason. My death must have served some purpose," Arthur said as he stood up and helped Gemma to her feet.

“Yeah, it must’ve. Maybe you were supposed to rule now,” Merlin said. “It was never specific about when you’d rule.”

He grew quiet as Arthur helped Gemma up onto her feet. She stared blearily at him. “Hey,” Gemma said to him. “Can we go back to bed, Arthur? I’m really tired.”

"Sure, bed sounds fantastic right now..." Arthur smiled and waited for Merlin to move aside. Arthur then led Gemma out of the bathroom and towards his bedroom since it was closer than Gemma's own.

Merlin took the hint. “I’m going to go find George,” he whispered. “I’ll see you later Congratulations for everything.” With that, he continued passed the bathroom in search for his boyfriend. 

With half-mast eyes, Gemma watched Merlin leave. “He seems happier with George,” she noted as they went to Arthur’s room. Kicking off her sandals, she laid down on the bed; Gemma didn’t even get under the covers (she was too tired to do so). 

"So I noticed," Arthur replied. He for one never pictured or even thought about Merlin's love life. Then again he actually never pictured Merlin getting involved with another male, but he decided that he wouldn't question it. As long as his friend was happy then Arthur was happy for him.

Arthur went to the other side of the bed and lay down, folding his hands across his stomach. "I love you Gemma. Never forget that," the blond-haired man murmured, turning his head to look at her.

Gemma looked over at Arthur and smiled at him. “I know. I love you, too. Sweet dreams, Arthur. Sweet dreams,” the woman whispered. Rolling onto her side, she fell asleep.


	12. Epilogue: The New Reign Dawns

Epilogue: The New Reign Dawns

Arthur stood at the base of the steps leading into Buckingham Palace (his new home). He stared up at the building as he held the hand of his fiancé. Lightly, he squeezed her fingers to reassure himself that this was real and they had actually made it. Arthur's heart pounded in his chest. Gemma returned the gesture; it comforted him greatly. Feeling her soft, doe-like gaze upon him, he looked at her. "Hey," Arthur whispered. His voice shook a little bit as he spoke that one word. 

"Hey," she repeated. "You will be fine. This is the role you were... you are destined to have."

"Do you think I'll do this new era justice," asked Arthur while Gemma straightened his burgundy tie and then his tweed suit’s jacket. 

"With all my heart, Arthur. The people want you and only you," she affirmed, smoothing out her punked-up red dress. "You helped get rid of a tyrant. You brought hope and peace to a place where there was fear and grief. You've done a lot and you're not even on the throne yet!" Gemma laughed as she spoke. 

"You're right," Arthur said as he rested a hand against the creamy skin that peaked out the cut-outs of her dress and led Gemma up the steps to their new home. 

The blonde-headed man looked about the grand entrance. "Not bad. It's not Camelot, but it's not bad. I think I could get used to this place," Arthur remarked while he and Gemma were ushered into the dance hall. 

Arthur barely noticed that Lexi, Louis, George, Gareth, and Merlin as well as the rest of the Resistance, the media, and many English citizens were there. He was focused on heading to the front of the room and keeping his fiancé from falling. He didn't think that allowing his Queen-to-be to trip would be a very proper thing for their new subjects to see. 

"Kneel," instructed Louis. "Arthur Pendragon and Gemma Thomson."

"After you," Arthur offered and then he helped Gemma to kneel upon the velvet-covered stool. Once she was settled, the Once and Future King knelt upon the other stool, which was cloaked in the same fabric. 

"Upon the dawn of this new day, a new reign begins. Fear, mistrust, and grief are things of the past. Now, this world will be filled with joy, prosperity, and unity. No longer will there be prohibitions, bans, or curfews. This world will be allowed to flourish as it was always supposed to be. The repression of the souls is no longer!" Louis declared. 

Raising a sword, he rested it upon Arthur's shoulder. "Arthur Pendragon, will you repeat after me?" the man began. Once Arthur nodded, he continued his chant, "I, Arthur Pendragon...."

"I, Arthur Pendragon...."

"Do solemnly swear to uphold the new laws of the land and to create a place of peace and harmony where fear is a thing of the past,” Arthur murmured. His brow was puckered in concentration. He did not want to mess this up.

"And that I will listen to the people and accept them for who they are, that I will judge honourably and justly, that I will reign fairly, and make any changes prudently and proceeding with caution," Arthur declared. 

He repeated the words. He prayed he didn't miss any of them or turn the phrases around. There was a lot to remember and to repeat!

"Finally, if I feel there is a conflict of interest or that I cannot govern justly or successfully, I will step down promptly and allow my heir to take my place so that there can be a continuation of peace and harmony within the political system," Louis and Arthur concluded. The second-in-command tapped Arthur's right shoulder with the sword and then he raised it over Arthur's head and tapped the other shoulder. 

Louis cleared his throat before moving the sword to Gemma's shoulder and preparing to proclaim the oath to her. "I, Gemma Marie Thompson...." he began, but Gemma did not repeat the words. They waited for a very long minute, but she didn't say anything. 

"What are you doing?" Arthur whispered. . 

"I think it’s silly to repeat the oath one line at a time. Can't I just say it all at once?" Gemma asked. 

Arthur opened and closed his mouth as the guests gasped at her suggestion. “Um, well….” he stammered. Arthur looked at Louis. “Well, can she?”

“I guess so,” Louis replied. “This is your new reign, you can do whatever you want,” he replied, pulling down the hem of his vest (it had ridden up a little bit).

“It’s fine by me. Proceed,” Arthur told the man with the sword.

“Repeat after me,” Louis began again. “I, Gemma Marie Thomson, do solemnly swear to rule beside one Arthur Pendragon loyally and justly, to listen to the people on matters of utmost importance (whatever they may be), and to be open to discussion and conflicting ideas, which will be handled with the greatest of care and consideration. If there is doubt, there will be consultation; if haste is needed, it will be taken; and if there is no one else to turn to, the decision will be made by me. Loyalty and camaraderie to all will be had. Justness will be in my heart.”

Gemma grinned and nodded. Then, in a poised and thoughtful tone, she repeated the words verbatim. When she was done, she asked quietly, “Is that it?”

“Not quite,” replied Louis as he raised the sword. Tapping Gemma on one shoulder, he brought it over her head and then tapped it on her other shoulder. “Merlin, Gareth, bring the crowns.”

The two men strode forward. Arthur’s circlet of gold was settled on the pillow in Merlin’s hands. Gareth carried Gemma’s crown. Standing next to Louis, they offered them to the second-in-command. Carefully, the man placed the crowns upon the heads of the Queen and King. 

“Now, arise Arthur Pendragon, King of England. Arise Gemma Marie Thompson, Queen of England,” proclaimed Louis. “And face your people.”

Arthur stood first. Then, taking Gemma’s hand in his, he helped the new Queen to her feet. He looked at the crowd and smiled at them. Apprehensively, the newly crowned King raised his hand and the crowd began to clap and cheer. Arthur Pendragon held up his other hand and lowered both as a gesture to quiet the crowd. Once they had shushed, Arthur cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Good morning, one and all. Today, you stand here in the name of justice, honour, and prosperity. Life has been rough, I know that. It has not been easy for you all and for that, I am terribly sorry. It makes my heart ache at the thought of all the suffering everyone one of you have had to face," Arthur told the crowd. 

As the people before him went wild, he paused. His eyes scanned the faced in front of him and he made sure to make eye contact with as many as he possibly could. After a minute, he held up a hand to shush them a second time. 

"Things will get better. I will make sure of it. Under my reign, I promise to help this land prosper and grow. I will right the wrongs that have befallen you. No one will have to be afraid to embrace who they are. No one will have be afraid of doing something wrong. Nor will you have to fear going without."

Again, the crowd roared with elation and vigour. Arthur paused and let the people clap and shout as they proclaimed their happiness. There hadn't been any in such a long time; Arthur felt they needed this. Once they quieted, on their own accord this time, the King continued his speech. 

"Granted, it is not going to be easy. I ... we will not be going to do this overnight. It will take a lot of hard work and perseverance. However, it all will get done! As soon as this ceremony is over, I will begin working to fix things. There will no longer be unreasonably early curfews nor will there be harsh rations on food, supplies, and medicines. People will have choices in schools, jobs, and lifestyles. Things will be better! I promise you. Are you with me? Will you stand with me as we fix the things that are broken?" Arthur concluded. 

The crowd shouted. It came out as nonsense because so many people chimed in all at once. However, what was said didn't really matter. The fact they supported him was the key. 

"Long live The King!" someone called from behind him. Arthur looked over his shoulder; it was Merlin. 

"Long live The King!" Gemma joined in. Then, the rest of the people gathered in Buckingham Palace began to chant the same four words. They rumbled through the space and echoed on the walls. The reverberations of the exclamations seemed to press against Arthur on all sides, as if he was getting a giant, invisible hug. This was a new day for Britain and a new, but very familiar, life for Arthur. What would come? No one even knows. 

The End


End file.
